


I Am Yours and You Are Mine

by CaptainTarthister



Series: The Lannisters Are Coming [11]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Porn With Plot, Sex, Smut, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-20 18:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6020971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime and Brienne get married in Evenfall Hall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vows

**Author's Note:**

> Please bear with me my dear, wonderful readers. The installments in my series, The Lannisters Are Coming, will NEVER be written in the correct order. I'm so sorry for upsetting the order yet again. 
> 
> This takes place after Slowly, Towards You, At Last.

Jaime and Brienne arrived in Tarth almost two weeks ago for their wedding. Spring break had come at long last, though for Jaime the wait for the big day was unbearably and painfully long. He was itching to cloak his fiancée, and was literally steps away from sweeping her away from all the insane and very unnecessary preparations to become his wife. Brienne was his wife from day one, as far as he was concerned. 

Brienne, her face rendered watermelon red in the still-strong winds of Tarth despite the season, pointed out she was more than willing to fly to Braavos for a quickie wedding. A point Jaime knew she had made and argued for many, many times. The problem with being in love with a highly intelligent woman who thrived on good memory and making notes was he was helpless when she showed him the tally: one hundred twenty-six times. Since the day he had slipped the sapphire, princess-cut ring set on platinum down her finger, she had been pushing for an informal, no-fuss wedding. It was Jaime, along with her father Selwyn and uncles Galladon, Endrew and Duncan, and his own father Tywin, who had demanded a proper, formal wedding. She grumbled that they would only be wearing tuxes while she had to stuff herself in what was sure to be a heinous dress that would make her look like a giant, multi-tiered fluffy cake. Or a drag queen. Jaime had happily kept her in bed for the whole day to show her he saw her as all woman, every glorious, _lickable,_ freckled inch of her. 

Outnumbered, outgunned and outwitted, she had no choice but to concede. She didn’t let them get away, though: she insisted that the wedding be small and quick, for the venue to be in Tarth rather than Casterly Rock (Tywin lost this one and Jaime fell in love with her harder) and she refused pitiful canapés and little sandwiches be served in the reception. Lobsters were what she wanted. Lobsters, oysters and shrimp. A cheese course. Champagne. And the cake was not going to be big, white thing that was more showcase than food to slice and enjoy. Damn it, it was going to be chocolate with raspberries, not a sissy, lemon and cream concoction. Jaime preferred raspberries with cream. Brienne told him she was already being forced into a formal wedding she didn’t like, in a dress she was sure to despise, not to mention all the dreary meetings required even for a wedding as small as theirs. This time Brienne kept him in bed. He conceded with a smirk, annoying her because she had played right into his hands.

There were fittings and final decisions to make, each more overwhelming the next. Their guests started arriving three days before the wedding. Tywin, of course, flew in his private jet, taking with him Cersei and her husband Robert Baratheon and their son Joffrey, who was going to be ring bearer. Tyrion had to join them due to pleadings from Cersei because Tywin and Robert enjoyed antagonizing each other and Joffrey needed his uncle to remind him he wasn’t half a lion. Renly, Robert’s brother and one of Brienne’s best friends, flew with them. Jon Snow, one of her best friends, couldn’t make it because the weekend of their wedding was his dissertation defence. Brienne and Uncle Galladon picked them up from the airport. 

Cersei ran toward Brienne, elbowing Renly out of the way. Blond and heartbreakingly beautiful as her twin brother, she stormed towards her goodsister-to-be like a child, hair flapping behind her. The force of throwing herself toward Brienne almost knocked the taller woman off her feet. Cersei whispered, clutching at her as if she were a lifeline. “Brienne, take us away from Tywin. For the love of the gods, before I kill him myself.”

Evenfall Hall was a small castle but it was still a castle. There was more than enough room. But Tywin announced he had reserved a suite of his own at the Sapphire Isle Lounge. Tyrion and Robert high-fived each other behind him. Renly breathed an audible sigh of relief that he quickly covered up with a cough when Tywin glared at him. 

In the afternoon, Oberyn and Ellaria Martell arrived with their daughters Tyene and Nymeria. Jaime and Oberyn hugged, patting each other heavily on the back with a grin. Ellaria and Brienne chatted as they waited because Bronn Stokeworth and his wife Lollys, along with Addam Marbrand and his wife Ashara Dayne were due to arrive shortly. They landed half an hour later. Brienne climbed behind the driver’s side of the van, Jaime sliding on the passenger side. He glanced at their friends laughing and talking loudly behind them before he shot her a dimpled grin. She knew that look. He was up to something _oh so bad._

As Brienne turned the key in the ignition, he slid a hand high on her thigh, his fingers brushing the inner, more sensitive skin. She jumped, her thighs clamping around his hand. As she turned to glare at him for being inappropriate yet again (despite her heart rate picking up), he kissed her full on the mouth and murmured, “Full house tonight, wife. It pleases me you that scream so very loudly when I fuck you but try not to be so loud this time.” 

A deep blush rose in her cheeks. Since getting engaged, Jaime had taken to calling her wife. She had to remind him of her name, to which he would acquiesce only to call her wife again. 

Jaime was still brushing his lips against her mouth. Shivering, she whispered, “You should try being quiet too.”

“Then don’t stop kissing me,” he told her before leaning away. He didn’t remove his hand from her thigh when she started driving. He liked the contrast of his tan hand on the milky, freckled expanse of her firm, muscular thigh. Like him, she wore shorts. 

His nonchalant smirk dropped when she suddenly braked as a dog suddenly darted in front of the van. As everyone behind them toppled forward and shouted, she let out a breathless moan when he took advantage by pressing his hand in the heated juncture between her thighs. Jaime groaned her name under his breath. She was wet. His cock stiffened in his shorts at the discovery. He chuckled, drawing her attention to him. Seeing his condition, she bit back a smile. She pulled his hand away from her thighs, kissed his palm, his wrist, and returned it to his lap. Her blush deepened and he narrowed his eyes at her, the expression on his face clear with sensual promise.

“Sorry, guys!” She said over her shoulder just before driving again. 

Arriving at Evenfall Hall meant another flurry of insane activity. Cersei hugged Ashara, who smiled at Endrew and made him blush. Ellaria was immediately swept up in Selwyn’s arms while Joffrey ran toward Nymeria and Tyene, glad for children close to his age. Never mind that they were girls. Duncan clapped the men on the back.

Once determining that their guests were distracted enough, Brienne caught Jaime’s eye and she inclined her head toward the twisting stairs leading to the bedroom. He was quick to catch on, grabbing her by the hand and tearing up the stairs, wanting her too much to stop as she stumbled after him. 

Barely had the door slammed shut when she shoved him against it, her mouth warm and possessive as she kissed him as if to devour him. He groaned as he pushed his tongue past her swollen lips, licking her unabashedly, wanting her taste to fill his mouth, his throat. As the urgency in their kisses grew, so did the frenetic pace of their hands as they fought shirts and buttons, attacked zippers. She laughed when one of leg of his shorts got caught in his ankle because he was still wearing sneakers. He silenced the lovely sound of her mirth with a kiss that had her reeling back if not for the rib-crushing grasp of his arms around her waist. Buttons from the shirt he tore off her rained down the floor. She almost protested then remembered it was _his_ shirt. He cupped the gentle curve of her breasts reverently, his light touch making her weak in the knees. 

Jaime was sucking on the pulse under Brienne’s jawline when she suddenly slipped her hands under his knees and hefted him up. A grin lit up his face as his feet left the floor, his face smooshed against her neck. The world spun before it was right again, this time with him on the bed and her warm, strong body atop his. She loomed over him, a blond, flushed, blue-eyed warrior goddess with her muscles, her small breasts, the dirty-blond bush wet between her thighs. Jaime yanked her by the wrist, catching her mouth with his. Their hands flew to grasp and squeeze random parts of each other’s bodies. Then he planted his large hands on her wide shoulders, pushed her to the side and settled on top of her. 

“I love you,” she told him, her eyes soft and shining with the brilliance of all sapphires in the world. Her fingers fluttered to the elegant line of his jaw, touched the faint stubble there before climbing to his cheek. Her chest rose high, her nipples brushing against the rough hairs of his chest as he caught her hand with his and pressed his lips on her palm. She sighed, arching against him as his lips trailed the long, firm line of her arm until they reached her shoulder. As he playfully bit and sucked on the firm flesh there, he raised his head, a lock of golden blond hair falling across his forehead. His knees roughly pushed her legs far apart and he let out a throaty groan as the scent of her arousal rose to fill his nose. He drank it in, vanilla and woman, his eyes shutting briefly before opening them. His face was dark with lust and need. 

“Again,” he whispered. His voice was raw.

She nodded, burying her fingers in his soft waves. “I love you, Jaime.”

His lips tracked the width of her chest, followed the pattern of freckles splashed on her breasts. Calloused hands lowered to her broad waist, her wide hips before sliding under her knees. “Again,” he said, tonguing a nipple before mouthing an entire, small breast. His cock pressed between the spread lips of her cunt, his pubic hairs scraped against her clitoris. Then resting his weight on one arm, he took his cock with his other hand and rubbed it between the honeyed stickiness between her cunt lips.

 _“Jaime,”_ she gasped, her eyes shutting tight. 

Her nails gouged into the skin of his back and he groaned, both in pleasure and pain. He took the pain because the pleasure was a thousand-fold. Still gripping his cock, he swirled its head round and round her clit, spreading the moisture hanging at the tip. He claimed her mouth like a conquering warrior and she the helpless maiden. 

It was too much. There was only one word she was capable of saying.

_“Jaime.”_

She opened her eyes. Then watched as his black pupils overtook the emerald of his gaze before dipping his tongue in the deep centre of her belly button. He rubbed his stubbled jaw and cheeks on the firm expanse of skin.

“Again. Wife.”

 _Wife._ _His._ Her hands clutched at his shoulders, her ankles crossed at his buttocks. “I love you. Jaime. I love you, I love you. _Oh,”_ she cried out as he raised himself, sleek and rendered golden in the sun entering the windows of her bedroom. A lion. A conquering lion. _Hers._

“Jaime,” his name was torn from her dry throat as his cock began to push in. He smiled as she writhed at the wet sound that rose between their joining bodies.

He winced. “You’re still so tight after all those times I’ve been inside you,” he confessed, the veins in his neck standing thick and strong as he struggled against the tight hold of her flesh. “I’ll fuck you until you’ll feel wrong and incomplete without my cock in you, yes?”

 _Oh, gods._ “Yes. Jaime. _Yes._ ”

He groaned, throwing his head back before he was suddenly leaning over. Huge hands gripped her face. She whimpered as his hips rocked against her. "Brienne. _Fuck._ So tight. So, so, _so tight._ You'll always make me work for every inch inside you, won't you?" His green eyes were all she saw of her world because he was leaning so closely. "That's okay. I'll just keep fucking you."

His vulgarity would always make her tingle inside. She grabbed him until his breath feathered her lips, her nose. Their hips began to move frantically. She grunted as his cock was finally seated fully in her. Again there was the familiar, overwhelming fullness. She swore her heart stopped for a few seconds. He licked her neck, her cheek, grabbed her short hair and yanked it, baring the strong curve of her throat. She didn’t feel the pain. Only heat. Only Jaime.

“Jaime,” she begged as his hips assumed a punishing, breathtaking pace. His hand in her hair kept her still, his other hand gripping her thigh kept her immobile. There will be bruises. She didn’t care. She wanted, needed his cock. Her existence centred on it.“Please. Please.”

His eyes were fire and his words were the roar of his heart. 

_“I love you, Brienne.”_

Her lips parted, revealing the tip of her pink tongue. He sucked it. Hard. She tore her mouth away from his kiss.

“Again.” He smiled despite the strain in his face as she gave him a taste of his own word.

“I love you.”

“Please.” His cock was so deep in her she could feel him touch her soul. 

_“I love you. I love you. I will love you and fuck you for the rest of our lives.”_ He declared fiercely, grabbing her face, hungrily staring at the desire shimmering in her eyes, the deeper shade of red her freckles had acquired as they fucked, her swollen, wonderful mouth that said the most beautiful words ever created.

“You are mine, Brienne. _Mine._ As I am yours.” He spoke in a way that told her it was irrefutable.

She didn’t want to be anyone else’s. Her fingers feathered his cheeks before pulling him close. 

_“Yours,”_ she whispered before he sealed her vow with a kiss.


	2. General's Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More smut. It's tagged as Porn with Plot but this might just be all porn all the way.

Fucking Brienne always put Jaime in a very good mood. The downside, if it could be called that, was every single time was better than the last. His mind was sharper, his focus easier to attain. The world was more beautiful. He felt more confident. 

He was more in love with Brienne. 

So he couldn’t get enough. 

Before flying to Tarth for the wedding, they played around with the idea of not fucking until the wedding. Jaime was well aware they fucked more often than most people—sometimes he took her three times before going to work. But there were days, as well as nights, when they lay in bed talking until one of them fell asleep or held each other, basking in the comfort and security of being in the arms of a lover that cherished you. So when Brienne proposed this idea to him, he was perfectly amenable. She would never know how irresistible she was but he believed he could keep from her fucking her even when the press of her firm bottom to his crotch as they slept was a new kind of hell. It was only a few days. This abstinence was to begin as soon as they arrived in Tarth. 

Instead, Brienne gave him the surprise of his life when she whispered about signing up for the Mile High Club. Jaime joked that vacations unleashed a side of Brienne that was uninhibited, sexy as ever, saucier. She had refused to fuck in the bathroom of the airplane on their first visit to Tarth. _Now she was proposing they do it!_ Hells. Jaime's head swam as her breathy, hesitant whisper tickled his ear before he took her hand. 

The bathroom was smaller than a closet but they did the deed. Jaime fingered her towards a breathless release first before drawing her down on his lap and guiding his cock inside her. Brienne bit his lip as she came a second time, violent tremors overtaking her body before he gave in to his own release. Once they landed and got their bags from the carousel, Jaime found himself wishing that their last time hadn’t ended so quickly. But he promised to hold off on his urges until their wedding. Oaths were important to him too, no matter how stupid they were. Thus he thought continued despite his cock yelling at him to hell with it. 

He had his arm around Brienne’s waist as they waited for Uncle Gal to pull up in dear old Lacey when she surprised him again. A blush, a look, a furtive whisper and he was happily following her to the restrooms. They didn’t even bother to check if all stalls were empty before they slammed the door closed and Jaime’s shorts dropped to the floor. Brienne sucked his cock with what could only be described as surprising fury. The hard suction of her mouth would have pulled him away from the wall if not for the determined digging of his nails into it. Jaime went mad hearing the loud, wet slurps of her lips, the high-pitched squishing of her fingers fucking her cunt at the same time. It was the clear gaze of her sapphire eyes that undid him. He shot off his load with a guttural groan, the whimpers from her throat draining him. Their bodies were limp and heavy afterward. Brienne barely managed to pull up his shorts and zip it closed. Jaime, also recovering, shut the toilet seat and sat there, pulling her down to sit between his legs. The waited until their frantic breathing slowed and the red and gold mishmash of indiscernible shapes cleared from their vision. Brienne’s mouth still looked fuller, a wet, glistening thing. He had to stop himself from kissing her. Instead, he sucked her taste off her fingers. Her head fell on his shoulder and she whispered his name. 

When Uncle Gal finally arrived, he remarked that they both looked too flushed from the heat already. As Brienne blushed, he went on to point out that Jaime was a little unsteady on his feet. 

By the time they made it to her old bedroom, each knew the promise was dead. Brienne fretted over that, telling Jaime that if he wasn’t so goddamned pretty she might be able to resist him. Jaime pointed out cheekily they needed to practice for the honeymoon anyway. Fucking regularly would increase their stamina. She shook her head at him though a smile teased at the corner of her lips. He laughed  
So fuck they did. In the bathroom. On the floor by her bed. In Maiden’s Cove at night, with the sea behind them, the bonfire the only light in their world, their lips and tongue sticky with marshmallows. In the garage, where he kissed away her protests and she pinned him on the floor with her bulk and legs. By Oathkeeper, where Jaime requested that she touch herself as he tore at his clothes. It made his heart catch when she hesitated, unsure with how to do it and it hit him that she was _that_ innocent still. He willed for his arousal to go away as he took her hand and showed her how, his instructions gentle and interspersed with gentle kisses. Her cries filled the room as she played with her clit while he fucked her with his tongue. She was still limp, her vision hazy when he turned her on her hands and knees and began to pump his cock in her. 

As their wedding date approached, their fucking increased. Knowing Brienne would soon be his, really his, made him a lot more eager than usual, wanted her insanely all the time. In fact, they were almost late picking up their friends from the airport today because Jaime begged for Brienne to pull over. He was hard just from looking at her windblown hair, her stoplight-red cheeks. They fucked on the floor of the van, their legs hanging out of the open door, on the side of the road in broad daylight. Every time the roaring sound of an approaching vehicle came, she got rigid and covered his lips with her hand. He had to cup his hands around her ears to block out these distractions, kissed her eyelids closed so they wouldn’t flash open in panic as another car or motorbike neared them, took her mouth in a claiming hungrier than the previous one so she won’t tell him to stop anymore. He only had so much control and having to stop in fear of getting caught drew sweat down the sides of his face, his chest, mixing with her own. But Brienne, of course, could not, would not be stopped.

In between her breathless admonishments that they’d get arrested, she cried out _harder,_ _more,_ _fuck me._ He came inside her with a groan dragged from the deepest pit of his soul before he swallowed her shout. It took every bit of strength he had to keep her on the floor as she pushed and shook against him. The force of their release rattled the van. Her hips and thighs, the back of his shoulders, his ribs, became a canvass of bruises. Before he pulled out of her, he took her large, coarse hand, kissed every finger made stiff and knobby through hours of writing her academic papers. His lips lingered on the one that held her engagement ring. As they got dressed, he couldn't help the surge of masculine pride at the sight of her flushed thighs, her wet pubic curls. She caught him staring and turned even redder as she pulled up her shorts. He couldn't believe how much he wanted her again. That at that moment, there was nothing more he wanted than shutting the door of the van and lose himself in her sapphire eyes as he fucked her. 

The languid, dreamy expression Brienne was now hardly without had Selwyn observing out loud during breakfast earlier that she must be getting too much sun and should stay indoors more. He went on to comment that Jaime seemed tired as well. If only the old man knew, he thought. Once past the door of her old bedroom, clothes were shed and they wore out the springs of the bed fucking through the night. The sound of the sea drowned out their cries and the giveaway squeaks from the bed. Mornings they went easy on each other—Jaime either licking leisurely the long seam of her cunt, spurred by the rapture that softened her face that he couldn’t, and didn’t want to look away, or Brienne wrapping her lips around his cock, tentative yet also bold. As she wiped the back of her hand across her lips this morning, he looked at her tenderly. A softness warmed his emerald eyes that often gleamed with mischief. Anyone who saw him then would see a man deeply in love. 

Even without a mirror, Jaime knew he looked exactly like that now. He leaned against pillows piled behind him, warm and sated and a little wrung out but in the best way. Her taste filled his mouth and he could still smell her from his fingers. Brienne kept her back to him as she slid her arms through the sleeves of a sky-blue blouse. He gazed admiringly at her rippling back muscles as she moved.All too soon, it was completely covered. But, he thought, his eyes falling on her wide, broad hips, she had yet to put on pants. His eyes lingered on the cleft between her ass cheeks as she bent to put on white panties, wondering if she'd let him take her there twice today. He would have to make a quick visit to the pharmacy first, however. They had gone through the entire tube of lube already. His fiancee was still shy in asking him to fuck her there. It gave Jaime smug and immense satisfaction that he had been the one to introduce her to the pleasure of fucking there. Her response was worlds away in intensity than when he fucked her the usual way. 

“Now that you’re dressed, come here and kiss me,” he told her, grinning.

Brienne’s face was pink as she shook her head, remaining between the open doors of the closet. “No, Jaime. We’re expected downstairs soon.” Twilight had begun. 

“We can do it hard and fast.” He crooked a finger at her. “Come.” 

She rolled her eyes. “No.”

She raised her eyebrow at him before striding to her desk with her long, very long legs. She pulled out a clipboard from a drawer and plucked a pen off the can. She looked both efficient and sexy. Efficiency is the new sexy, Jaime thought as she sat at the foot of the bed. She raised her legs and crossed them. 

“What’s the clipboard for?” He asked.

“We don’t have vows yet.”

“Hmm. Let me see. I did not know I was lost until your astonishing blue eyes found me—“

Brienne laugh was a loud, horsey sound but so endearing. “Seriously?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s corny.”

“Ah. Alright. How’s this. Since the night I saw you kicking your extremely long legs on top of a table at Ye Olde Gods, I’ve been wanting to get between them—“

Brienne’s face flared that wonderful, sexy tomato red. “Jaime, you can’t be serious.”

He groaned. “Alright. Let’s see if yours is any better.”

She blushed even more. “I don’t have mine yet.”

“At least I have ideas, wife. Is yours going to be something like, I swear before the Father, so-and-so, and the Mother, so-and-so. . .” 

“Well, what’s wrong with making it traditional?”

“Nothing. But I don’t think we’re that traditional. We fucked for two weeks before we made it to our first date. And I introduced you to my lovely family before I took you out for coffee.” He smiled hugely at the memory. How he would go over to Brienne’s apartment dressed and planning to take her out to a fancy dinner only to be amazed by her eyes again as soon as she answered the door, or catch a heady whiff of her vanilla shampoo. Jaime had never been so hard until he met her, reaching a level where he needed immediate relief. It was dumb luck that Brienne wanted him too, else she wouldn’t be so quick to spread her legs either to give him that needed release. He joked once that they fucked like crazed cellmates on death row, which got him a playful punch to the jaw. 

“Not to mention that I got conked in the head, almost broke my nose and got beaten up by an entire football team before I knew your name,” he continued. “Most men probably wouldn’t bother after that but I thought that a woman such as you, for me to go through all that, had to be extraordinary. And you are.”

Brienne’s face was soft as she listened to him. She looked almost lovely. She tapped the pen on the clipboard. “Well,” she said slowly, forehead wrinkling in deep thought. “Maybe if we have a theme to make writing our vows easier. Something like, `When I First Saw You’ or something.”  
Jaime crawled toward her on his hands and knees. “When I first saw you, I thought you were the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” It wouldn’t do to tell her he thought her a dude at first. Even if he clarified that he wasn’t really bothered getting hard when he mistook her for one. 

He sat beside her, folding his long legs. He took the clipboard, put in on his lap, and also the pen. Brienne shifted closer until their shoulders touched. Another smile lit up his face when she rested her chin on his shoulder. A quick kiss to her forehead and he started scribbling some lines. 

Jaime liked touching Brienne. Loathed as he was to admit it, there have been a lot of women but he couldn’t recall being as affectionate to them as he was with her. He liked lacing his fingers between hers, his calloused palms pressed against the rough surface of her own. No matter where they were, he had a need to always touch her, be it tucking a stubborn lock of her straw-blond hair behind an ear, drawing her close to his side, kissing her. He once thought it was because she was unbelievably sexy. She would be the first to refute it but he wanted to trail his lips up and down her legs when she wore skirts, which was rarely. When he realized it wasn’t because of that alone, he supposed it was her scent that called to him. Clean, wholesome vanilla that was also hot woman underneath. It was all about pheromones, he concluded then. And he thought she smelled the best behind the ears and between her legs.

It took a while to realize that when he touched Brienne it was touching goodness itself. There was something. . .cleansing even by just holding her hand, making Jaime believe that he was capable of being a better man. That all the wrongs he had committed were obliterated. There was a purity, an innocence, in her despite her love for cursing, or that she was not a virgin when they got together. It was an innocence that came from a generous heart, one that had been broken and mended more times than could be counted yet still believed and loved. _Loved him, most of all._ Knowing this would steal Jaime’s breath for a few seconds before he remembered how it was done, and slowly, by stages. 

“Words should be easy for you, Jaime,” she told him. “You’re the one in advertising.”

“You’re the lit major here. Everything you say should be poetry.” He said, grinning. He would always have it bad for his big, blond, red-faced Brienne. Everytime she spoke he wanted to kiss her. 

Brienne rolled her eyes. So he rolled his back.

He was about to kiss her when somebody knocked and tried the doorknob. 

“Hey.” It was Renly. “No locked doors, come on!”

Brienne laughed and leaped off the bed. Jaime suddenly grabbed her by the wrist and said, “Get dressed. I’ll answer the door.”

“I am dressed.” She pointed out, clearly oblivious to the appeal of a woman prancing around in a shirt and panties. Jaime was proud to show her off, revelled in her impressive shoulders emphasized in some of the dresses she wore, and her legs, of course. While he will never dictate how she should dress, he didn’t want any man, gay or straight, seeing the freckles scattered around her muscular thighs. Or how tempting she looked in just a shirt and panties. That was for him alone.

“Pants, wife,” he ordered, grabbing her for a kiss before setting her away from him. He pulled on his pants, yelling at Renly to stop being an ass when the latter called out again. As Brienne grumbled while stepping into a pair of khakis, Jaime opened the door. He blocked Renly’s view of Brienne. Again she had her back turned and only faced them when she was zipped up. 

“So that’s why the door is locked,” Renly declared as he swept in, smoothly ducking under Jaime’s arm braced on the frame. He was two inches shorter than Jaime and handsome with his thick, black hair that emphasized the vivid navy blueness of his eyes. He grinned at the other man, raking his eyes boldly at his bare, golden chest before he turned to Brienne.

“Hey, Renly.” Brienne said, flopping back on the foot of the bed. “What’s up?

Renly sat down beside her. He glanced at Jaime who was pulling on a shirt then at her. “Brace yourselves, you horn dogs, Selwyn is going to keep you apart until the wedding. Something about both of you looking tired.” He laughed as Brienne’s cheeks flamed at the way he emphasized the last word. “So, it’s true? Holy fuck, Lannister,” he told Jaime. “So you’re not all roar, after all.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Jaime said. “What’s the point of Selwyn doing that? Brienne’s not a virgin. If it’s her virtue he’s concerned about that ship sailed a long time ago. And she’s my fiancée who is of age. We have the right to fuck.” He ducked at the pillow she hurled at him. 

Renly winked at Brienne. “He is deliciously crude. No wonder you like sitting on his face. How can you not want that tongue in you?”

As Jaime burst out laughing, Brienne shrieked, “Renly! Shut up!” And grabbed another pillow to pummel him with it. Renly shouted. “Ouch! Stop! Stop!” She gave him a last pillow blow before she collapsed back on the bed, breathing fast.

“You have excellent reviews by our friend here, by the way.” Renly told Jaime as he righted his hair. He frowned at Brienne.

“Of course.” Brienne glared at Jaime as he spoke. He shrugged with affected aw-shucks-nonchalance. “Wife, you like me fucking you. You’re always demanding for my cock—“

“Jaime, you’re even worse!” Brienne growled, shooting to her feet as both men started laughing again. She glared at them but she lingered on Jaime. “Perhaps Dad is right to separate us until the wedding.”

“I heard everyone could use some decent night’s sleep,” Renly added.

“Now you’re talking nonsense,” Jaime pointed out. To Brienne, he said, “You told me fucking me is the only thing keeping you sane from all these preparations.”

“Ooh! Brienne talks dirty!” Renly exclaimed.

Brienne crossed her arms, blushing heavily. “Things said in the heat of the moment should not be taken into account.”

“On the contrary, wife, you told me that as you were ripping off my clothes.”

Renly clapped his hands. “That’s my girl!” 

“Not in front of Renly, Jaime, come on!” Brienne protested.

Pretending to misunderstand, Jaime snorted, “Of course we won’t fuck in front of him. Didn’t know you liked to be watched, Brienne.”

Renly yawned. “Wouldn’t be interested, anyway. You’re a good-looking guy, Lannister, but you’re not my type.”

“Assholes, both of you.” Brienne growled. 

Renly waved away her reaction. “Anyway, I thought to warn you guys. So I shall excuse myself,” he said, rising from the bed. “And leave you to your goodbyes. However you do them.” And with a dramatic bow, he swept out of the room. 

Jaime shut the door behind him and looked at Brienne. She stood by her desk, biting her lip thoughtfully. “So. Your Dad’s really going to do that or is Renly just fucking with us?”

She shrugged. “He is traditional. My Dad, I mean.”

Selwyn Tarth was not a man you crossed unless you had a death wish. Jaime sank back on the bed heavily. “I certainly won’t go against the orders of a four-star general while living in his house,” he told her, the smile in his voice belying his disappointment if what Renly had told them was true. Fucking Brienne kept him sane from all the madness of wedding-related matters. Not to mention that he absolutely enjoyed it. 

“No, you won’t. But I can.” 

Jaime shook his head. “Brienne. If it’s important to your father, we have to respect it.” Father and daughter, though still close, had been butting heads since the first time she brought Jaime home to Tarth. It increased when they announced their engagement and even more once they settled on a wedding date.

“But, Jaime,” she said, striding toward the bed until she could sit beside him. The mattress sank under her weight. “What about what’s important to us? I—I like that after coming home from another meeting with the caterer that you’re here, waiting for me and. . .wanting to fuck. You know what I mean,” she said when he chuckled. She huffed impatiently. “We won’t be dealing with my Dad separating us if we’d just run off and married in Braavos.”

“And miss the opportunity to see you in a frilly dress? Alright, I’ll be serious now.” Jaime said when she attempted to punch him playfully. He caught her fists and pulled her close until she was flush against his chest. He kissed her quickly for reassurance. 

“We’re in your father’s house. We’re already pushing the limits of the man by sleeping together unwed under his roof, Brienne. Put yourself in his shoes. Part of the reason he wants you to go through a proper wedding ceremony, and mine as well, is so that he knows you’re with a man who will treat you right and honour you. Yes, my Raspberry Bree, I too would much prefer getting hitched in Braavos but we can’t deprive your father and your uncles the pleasure of seeing you walk down the aisle. You’re all they have. Let them do what they want. We have the rest of our lives to make our own rules, love.”

Jaime often felt conscious about the ten years between their ages but this time he was grateful. Being older gave him insight to how Brienne’s dad felt and also the patience to explain things to his young, eager-to-be-wedded-and-bedded fiancée. 

“If he does separate us, it’s only a few days. We’ve been apart longer than that,” he told her. If he didn’t have to travel for work, it was she going off to a conference for a couple of days. Seeing that her glum expression refused to abate, he added, “Just think how it is when we’re finally married, Brienne. I’m sure you’ll be wetter than the sea and I’ll be begging you to fuck me.”

He had no trouble imagining it. Brienne blushing after their kiss, her strong body softened by her hunger for him as the septon announced their marriage. Then Jaime dragging her off behind a wall or a tree, heedless of the guests and pushing his hand under her dress to find her wet and wanting him bad. She would pretend to resist him, hiss that they’d get caught, they weren’t being proper but her arms go around him, anyway. Her protests end in whimpers in her throat as they kiss, his fingers pumping in and out of her wet cunt, his cock pushing against her thigh. Or maybe he would drop to his knees, tear her skirts out of the way and shove his tongue deep in her cunt. He fancied the idea of sneaking in her room just before the wedding and finding her as immaculate as the Maiden in white, or in blue, because the latter brought out her eyes. They would fuck, in bed or on the floor, he didn't care. When Brienne walked down the aisle, it was with drowsy sapphire eyes, crimson cheeks, nipples swollen and reddening from the lace of her dress or still sensitive despite the silk, and under her skirt, she was still hot and sticky from their fucking. 

Brienne must have imagined the same thing, or something probably loads naughtier given that her blush had reached her chest. What a really saucy minx she was, he thought happily. He was a lucky bastard. 

“Jaime.” She was breathless. “Jaime, um . . .”

“Yes?”

He let her push him onto his back down in the bed. He looked up at her as she unbuttoned her shirt. “Seven Hells,” he groaned as her shirt parted to reveal her pebble-hard nipples and the tell-tale swelling of her breasts. His cock strained against his pants. _“Brienne.”_

“If we won’t be having sex until the wedding, then. . .we should fuck to tide us over until then, don’t you think?” She asked him, sounding so innocent and so fucking sexy. Her eyes seemed to overtake her entire face. She looked so young. She looked like exactly the person he would always want.

“Yes,” he hissed. His green eyes were dark with desire.“Yes. Now come here.”

He held out his hand and she took it. Kissed his knuckles before she gave herself to him. She stole his breath. Stole his heart. And once again, looking into her heavenly eyes as they surged against each other, he fell harder in love.


	3. Let's Get the Party Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys drag off Jaime to Braavos. Brienne and the women have their own plans.

Though Brienne was a little taller than Jaime, in bed she lay in his arms as if she were small and delicate. It took a bit of adjusting, with her feet nearly hanging off the edge of the king-sized bed so she could put her head on his shoulder. She didn’t mind. And from the way his arms were quick to wrap around her and keep her close to his side, he didn’t mind the brief shuffling dance either. 

She looked at him. After fucking, Jaime was out like a light and this was no different. The soft, gray shadows under his eyes and the slackness of his jaw told her he was tired, maybe from their vigorous fucking (she couldn’t recall a time when they’d been slow), or the flurry of activities today.  
Neither of them had been keeping normal hours since arriving in Tarth. Jaime fucked her through the night with a relentless, breathtaking zeal. His eyes were dark green flames hungrily staring at her face as if memorizing how many times her eyes fluttered closed as his cock dug hard and deep in her cunt, sometimes sparing the occasional glance at where they were joined before looking at her again, his smile tight. He was the first to sleep and also the first to wake; and every morning, he had taken to waking her up with his tongue in her cunt. She was still panting from the force of her orgasm, her body reduced to a mass of tremors when he would slide his cock in her softened folds and fuck her until she shouted. He wore an infuriating grin when she came undone like that, his eyes never leaving her face, as if cataloguing her reaction. 

In the early days of their relationship, it made her conscious and she would look away. He had to anchor her head in his huge hands to keep her still, so she knew nothing else but his eyes and the feel of his cock. When she mustered the courage to ask him about it, he told her there was simply no way to not look into her eyes when he fucked her.

Being wanted the way Jaime wanted her was still so new. If he didn’t communicate it by touch (he couldn’t seem to stop touching her, she noticed, but she didn’t mind) it was with the things he did for her. As rich as Jaime Lannister was, and how grandiose he could be at times, he tugged at her heartstrings with the little things. 

Such as when he poured coffee for her first and watched her take a sip, waiting for her to judge if the brew was okay before proceeding to refill her cup just a bit. When he helped her into her coat. When he rubbed her shoulders as she hunched over her desk typing. When he got her the heating pad when the stress of her dissertation proposal made her period worse than Seven Hells and she was nothing but a curled ball of cramps. He ran her a warm bath, laid out her favorite pajamas, prepared her tea, got her favorite Lyseni takeout. In bed, he curled up against her back, keeping the heating pad pressed to her as he he kissed her nape, her shoulder. She never had to ask him to buy tampons for her because it was embarrassing but she did notice that he had started stocking up on her preferred brand back when they were still living separately. 

When Jaime told her earlier that they were far from the traditional couple, she suddenly saw their relationship in a new light. Perhaps because her experience in relationships was so few, and none of them were good ones, but she thought they were just like any other couple. She did not like talking about her relationship with Jaime outside of their immediate family and friends but she overheard a lot from work. And a lot of them were complaints.

Such as forgetting to pick up the dry cleaning. Not letting the dog out. Not getting along with a brother/sister/parents/cat/colleagues. Not supportive enough. The sex had dwindled. He/She had not said I love you yet. She/He said I love you from the start. She hated sports. He loathed the ballet. He hated her best friend. She couln’t stand his best buddy.

Supporting each other was something that had come easily for them. Brienne admired Jaime’s wit and creativity, which made him perfect as creative director of LSM Creatives, his advertising agency with Addam and Bronn. He was maddening, he was incorrigible and sometimes she wanted to punch him in the face but every time he infuriated her, she ended up laughing more, loving him more. Oh, sometimes they bickered over whose turn it was to pick up the dry cleaning, do the dishes, about getting an icky brand of potato chips or getting two percent milk rather than skim. He snored and stole the blankets, sometimes he slept in bed as if she wasn’t there. He thought she was doing seminal work with Valyrian literature but he wouldn’t have any interest in learning more about it save for what she told him. 

Neither of them had felt shortchanged or frustrated with each other because early on they had agreed never to bullshit. Jaime could be cutting in his remarks, sometimes cruel, but Brienne knew it wasn’t intentional and she herself wasn’t known for tact either. They’ve had arguments, had sometimes slammed doors but each knew to apologize and mean it sincerely. And the sex. Brienne remembered that after a particularly huge row, Jaime had ripped her blouse open, smirked at her, and fucked her so hard on the floor as if he was trying to pummel his way to it through her. She gave him bruises in return. When they collapsed limp and panting on the floor, they looked at each other and burst out laughing. He soothed her cunt with the gentlest kisses. She kissed every bruise on his body. No one could ever deny make-up sex wasn't scorching hot. 

Laughter came easily to them. All her life, laughter had traumatized Brienne, as she was teased and sometimes treated to the point of inhuman for her looks. With Jaime, she learned that laughter was a rich, wonderful thing. 

She couldn’t help the laughter bubbling out of her when he proposed the first horrible ad copies of the Valyrian beer campaign. He laughed and laughed, laughed even harder when he saw her glaring at him, when she got hit by a tennis ball right on the forehead and it sent her crashing butt-first to the ground. A month ago they signed up for a fencing club three blocks from their apartment. During their first match, as Jaime lunged toward her, he tripped and skidded across the floor. Brienne’s laugh rang throughout the club until she realized what she’d done and turned red. Her reaction prompted Jaime to laugh at her. Even his proposal had them laughing breathlessly before he could complete the question. 

As for the sex thing, oh boy. Brienne had never had as much sex, never thought she’d be having this much sex. Anything was a trigger. It could be her smile. His smile. The way he was looking at her. How she looked at him. How she stretched. As he was doing squats. When he brushed a lock of his golden blond hair away from his forehead. When she bit her lip and made it red and cracked. When milk dripped down his beard. When she got sauce on her blouse. 

Every flat surface could be fucked on, or against, she had learned with Jaime, and they have. They spent a small fortune having their couch cleaned due to the countless amorous encounters they’ve had there. There was even the weekend when they had stayed in Casterly Rock while Tywin wasn’t there. Jaime pulled her to the garage where the vintage cars were kept and proceeded to fuck her in every one of them. After his proposal, he came close to obliterating her right on the sands of Maiden’s Cove, her cries sent to the darkening sky, to the stars. She was still weak in the knees when he dragged her before her father and uncles to proclaim they were engaged. Later, as he pulled her to the shower, she realized she had faced her family wearing only her t-shirt and shorts, with sand in her hair, coating her thighs and legs. Jaime admitted he tossed her bikini somewhere and forgot to retrieve it after fucking her. He said it so solemnly, his eyes apologetic that she couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

She looked out the window. The sky was black streaked with gray, yet splashed with countless stars. The whisper of the sea beckoned not too far away. The slow spreading of the chill in the room told her they were going to be summoned for dinner soon and she would like to be there early, if only to try convincing her father they weren’t having that much sex so he wouldn’t separate them.

But as she moved, Jaime flung a heavy around her waist. He hauled her to his chest, palmed her breasts. His lips moving against her shoulder, he asked, “Where are you going?”

He was half-asleep but his hand was sure in roaming across and around her body. “We-We should get dressed.” Her answer came out breathless as he cupped her cunt. She gasped when she felt his cock rise against the crease between her buttocks. 

She felt him smile and shake his head. “We should fuck.”

Blushing, she buried her face in the pillow. “We’ve done nothing but f-fuck.”

“Complaining, wife?”His lips brushed her shoulder. He squeezed her breasts briefly.

She shook her head. He chuckled and urged her to turn her head toward him.

They were kissing, hands roaming each other’s bodies when somebody knocked and rattled the doorknob. Brienne giggled as Jaime tore his mouth away from her, frowning. “What?”

“We’ve decided you need a night off from your fiancée, brother,” Tyrion said from behind the door. “We’re taking you to Braavos.”

Jaime, who had resumed kissing Brienne as Tyrion talked, lifted his head from her breasts. He grinned as she mewled and he murmured, looking at her swollen nipples with satisfaction,“Braavos?”

“That alright with you, Brienne?” Tyrion asked. He rattled the doorknob. “You know, you could open the door.”

“I’m getting married the day after tomorrow.” Jaime said, nipping Brienne’s throat as he pinched her nipple. She groaned quietly, arching against him. Her mouh fell open, releasing a wordless cry as he continued pinching and pulling at her nipples in the way he knew she liked.“I hardly think my fiancée would agree to having me leave, let alone go to strip clubs.” She clutched at his shoulders when he bent his head to soothe her nipples with leisurely licks. Then he started sucking on one, his cheeks hollowing. "Fuck," he whispered. His eyes held hers. "You taste so fucking good." He went on to suckle on her other nipple. The blush on her face deepened.

“You’re not the only one going to strip clubs, Jaime.” Brienne froze when she heard Ellaria’s voice from behind the door. Jaime buried his laugh in her neck. She pulled at his hair.

“The girls and I want to see naked men and then go to a twenty-four hour spa afterward,” Ellaria continued. She knocked on the door. “Open up.”

“Seven Hells we’re opening the door.” Jaime growled at them. His green eyes flashed with desire as he took in Brienne's dazed eyes, her parted lips, the beautiful, dark pink flush overwhelming her from forehead to chest. He groaned her name and claimed her mouth with his. His cock thrust against her thigh.

Brienne walked her fingers up his muscular arm. “You do know it’s tradition, Jaime.”

He nipped at her lower lip. She moaned. “The only woman I want to watch strip is you.” He started kicking the blankets away from their legs.

“You haven’t spent much time with the boys,” she pointed out. She should stop him but he looked so beautiful even struggling against the blankets. And his cock. _Gods, his cock._ Looking at him, seeing him this way, she found she gave little care if their audience outside watched them. They smirked at each other. At last, they were both free. She bit back a moan when he kissed the crease between her hip and thigh. 

“Are they fucking?” Ellaria was asking Tyrion. Then louder, she demanded, “Are you fucking?”

Brienne covered her reddening face while Jaime glared at the door. “And if we are?”

“Jaime!” Brienne hissed.

Tyrion groaned. “Come on, Ellaria. Let’s give them five minutes.”

Jaime drank Brienne’s gasp as he pushed a finger in her sopping cunt. She shivered as he looked at her like a triumphant predator. 

“I need to fuck my fiancée thoroughly so she doesn’t forget me while oily, younger men are dancing for her.” He announced, spreading her legs.

Brienne squawked in outrage. He was so fucking unbelievable. Did he really have to tell them?“Give us twenty minutes.” He said just before lowering his head.

It didn’t take them twenty minutes but less. Brienne had to laugh at Jaime’s disgruntled expression as she threw a shirt and a pair of jeans toward him. Even when she put on his favorite skinny jeans on her, when she slipped on the navy blue top he liked because it emphasized her pale skin and freckles, he was still glaring woodenly into space. 

“This is all your father’s doing,” he grumbled as he reluctantly pulled on his shirt. Ugh, Brienne thought with an inner groan as the shirt closed over his lean muscles.He looked like half a god.

“My father and my uncles are not going with you.” She said, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “This has Tyrion all over it. And Bronn. And Addam. And Robert. And Oberyn.”

“I don’t want to go,” he told her, glaring at her.

“Jaime, we haven’t spent any time at all with our friends. It’s rude. Besides,” she added, struggling against the blush creeping up her cheeks. “We could use a break.”

His eyes dropped between her legs. “Are you sore?”

The truth was, Brienne was sore all over. Her jaw ached from sucking him. Her breasts and nipples extremely sensitive that she was going to have to wear a bra—and she was. Her cunt felt swollen. She couldn't sit right. But she wasn’t going to tell Jaime because he’d back off and not touch her and. . . _she liked him touching her._ If he knew he’d treat her like porcelain and that was the last thing she wanted. She had learned she liked a certain roughness in bed with Jaime but her body could use a break from their carnal bouts.

“N-No.” She tripped over the world at the white lie. “But don’t you want to have fun?”

“Fun for me was never strip clubs and women smelling of cheap perfume and rubbing against me.” Jaime said, pulling her by the waistband of her pants. She jumped when he suddenly buried his nose below her belt and breathed deeply. “Gods, Brienne. You smell like me. But that’s good,” he said, looking up at her with a smile. “Maybe when those male strippers scent me on you they’d back away. They won’t dare cross a lion’s territory.”

“None of them will get that close.”She vowed, firm despite the hot flush on her cheeks. 

“See that it remains that way.” He gave her a last, deep sniff before finishing getting dressed.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not as excited about my night either,” Brienne admitted as she put on her shoes. They were sensible navy flats. “I’ve never been to a strip club before so I really don’t know what to expect. I hate that.”

Jaime grinned. “Who knew you were a strip club virgin.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose you look exactly the sort to hang out in those places and slip stag notes in some eighteen-year-old’s thong.”

“Ouch.” Jaime made a face. “That wounds me.”

She went to him this time, putting a finger under his chin so he could look at her. Jaime was always telling her she had beautiful eyes. He was mistaken. His was the colour of raw emeralds. It amazed her that such eyes always looked at her as if she were unbelievably real. She remembered his words from their first visit to Tarth. _“You move me.”_

“All the girls will be fighting to get to you,” she said, grinning. “They’ve probably never had a client as handsome as you.”

“Hmm. If you were a stripper I’d definitely be your repeat client.”

“Shut up.”

“There is no red-blooded man who wouldn’t think of fucking you once they see your legs, Brienne. And your eyes. And there are men who rather like small breasts because you can put an entire mound in your mouth. You can’t do that with melon-sized hooters.” As he spoke, he started unbuttoning her blouse. She should stop him but his hands always felt so good. He frowned when he saw her wearing a small white bra and shot her an inquiring look.

“Uh. . .my nipples are still sensitive. You went crazy with them earlier.” This she had to admit.

“I apologize,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Best that you’re armoured from all the louts eager to grind up against you.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

He shook his head. “I’m never wrong about these things,” he insisted.

“There’s always the first time for everything, my love.” 

He grinned and buttoned her up, albeit reluctantly. Then she pulled him up and together, they strolled down the wide, winding staircase of Evenfall Hall. As they reached the last stair, he cupped her face in his palms for a gentle kiss, licking her plump bottom lip playfully before pulling away.

They found their friends and family hanging out in the yard. Selwyn had a long picnic table set up there, complete with benches, so they could take in the sights and the grounds of Evenfall Hall. It also made serving food easier. Soft rock music piped through the speakers. Brienne was pleased to find that everyone was having a good time.

Ellaria was laughing over something Selwyn was saying while Cersei protested loudly. Addam stood with his arm around Ashara’s waist. They were both listening intensely to Tyrion, who sat on the table with his legs crossed. Robert and Oberyn both had scotch in hand as they lisened to Uncle Duncan. Bronn and Lollys were smiling at something Uncle Endrew was saying while Renly was shaking his head vehemently. Despite this intense conversation, it was clear the foursome was having a good time.

Jaime pulled Brienne by the hand and was about to approach them when a pair of meaty arms landed heavily on their shoulders. As Jaime staggered from the weight of Uncle Galladon’s arm, he announced, “Well, here they are! Twelve minutes later!”

Jaime chuckled while Brienne swore to drown Tyrion in the sea. Uncle Gal pulled them along with him as he walked. “Here they are, everyone!” He patted them heavily on the shoulder before striding to the bar to help himself to a drink. 

“Finally!” Oberyn said, turning around to look at them. “We thought you’d be at it all night.”

Brienne glared at him. She’d kill him next. Jaime rolled his eyes and shared an impatient look with Brienne. . “Fine. Let’s get this over and done with. If we’re going to raid all the strip clubs in Braavos we’d better start now.”

As the younger men roared in approval, their wives rolled their eyes. Tyrion led the pack of wolves, the smug expression on his face reminding Brienne of Jaime’s despite his mismatched eyes. As he approached Brienne, he told her, “Don’t worry, sister. He’ll be back in no time. Unbesmirched, I swear to you.”

“See that he is.” Brienne told him and he nodded, walking past.

“I’m a little jealous. I wish I were a younger man,” Uncle Endrew said, watching wistfully as they started moving away. “But alas, my nights are short and my days long.”

One by one, the men went to their wives. There were kisses and vows extracted, as well as good-natured slapping and pinching. Robert swore to Cersei he’d think of her the whole night. Cersei told him she intended to enjoy her night. She giggled as he frowned and had to kiss him. Oberyn and Ellaria exchanged a look so hot that everyone looked away, including Jaime and Brienne. Ashara whispered something in Addam’s ear that had him blushing. Addam had a dry humor and often wore an arched brow expression. How was that even possible?

Jaime and Brienne followed the men piling in the van parked in the driveway. He drew her close to his chest, locking his arms around her waist. She bit back the wide smile threatening to split across her face as he rubbed his lips across her forehead, her cheek, under her ear. She closed her eyes at the scent of his aftershave and soap. 

“I’ll only be gone for one night.” He said, angling his head away from her. She opened her eyes. “I’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon.”

“See that you have fun.” She cradled his cheek. Her heart raced as he kissed her palm and held it to his face with his hand. 

“You know what would make the night bearable?” He asked her, pressing little kisses along her wrist. He grinned as he felt her pulse leap under his lips. 

“What?”

“Send me nude pictures.”He said nonchalantly. “Or better yet, a video of you in the shower.” 

There was no missing the vivid redness that exploded in Brienne’s cheeks. “Like hell I am.”

“What? I send you my dick pics all the time.”

“And I delete them.”

Jaime frowned. “I didn’t just shoot them, wife. I had to capture them in the best angle, the best light—“

She shook her head. “I am not, nor will I ever send you nude pictures, Jaime. Come on.”

“Fine. I know when to admit defeat.” Jaime kissed her chastely on the lips, as if he were a knight and she a sweet, tender maiden. He began to step back. “It’s a good thing I was prepared for your reply.”

She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

In answer, Jaime pulled out something crushed and tiny from the back pocket of his jeans before he straightened them with exaggerated ceremony. Brienne had to squint to realize he was holding a pair of black panties. _Her black panties._ He grinned as she looked around in panic, not knowing what to do if it was her father or any of her uncles or anyone left behind seeing what he held. When she whirled back to face him, her eyes were big, sapphire saucers. 

“Oh my gods.”

“That’s exactly what you said when I removed them from you with my teeth.” He pressed it to his chest. “I’d be sure to keep it close to my heart while I’m away from you, Brienne.” His expression was exaggeratedly lovesick.

Yesterday, she remembered. She had worn the panties. After dinner Jaime took her out for a walk in the grounds of Evenfall Hall. She ended up flat on her back on the lawn, writhing and squirming helplessly as he pulled off her underwear with his sharp, white teeth. Her wild release had hit him right in the tongue and he sucked every single drop, growling happily like a lion in a feast. She was still dazed when he brought her to the bedroom and fucked her for the rest of the night. 

“A fitting favour of a maiden to her knight, wouldn’t you say?” Jaime asked casually, holding up the panties against the moonlight as if it was a prize. 

_“Jaime, you fucking didn’t,”_ Brienne hissed, her fists clenched into tight balls. She started toward him when he suddenly pressed her panties to his face and inhaled deeply. She actually shrieked in mortification, giving him enough time to turn and shoot off his feet as if running from hell. She yelled and took after him but he was faster and was soon tearing towards the van, yelling at Bronn to start the engine and for the door to open. The engine gunned to life as he neared.

“Jaime Lannister, you come back here—“

“Too late! What’s yours is mine!” Jaime yelled over his shoulder as he threw himself into the van. As the door slammed closed, he shouted, “I love you, Brienne!”

Windows rolled down and all the men in the van shouted, “I love you, Brienne!”

Jaime stuck his head out of the window and blew her a kiss. As the van rolled away, Brienne buried her face in her hands and laughed. Jaime Lannister would always drive her crazy but how she loved him. She stared after the van as it disappeared toward the night. 

She would love him for the rest of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Braavos as a sort of Vegas, hence the references to quickie weddings and how it's a party town. Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Comments make my day! :-)


	4. Party On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion hires a pimpin' ride for going around Braavos.
> 
> Brienne sees something massively impressive.

They took the Lannister jet for the two-hour flight to Braavos. Tyrion had appointed himself as Master of Ceremonies, revealing with flourish a map of the city of Braavos. The men gathered around him, though Jaime kept yawning. With his pudgy finger, he told them about how he had classified the strip clubs: yellow for the one with the fastest women yet not so pretty, red for fast women with an equal share of pretty and ordinary and, 

“Blue, being our boy Jaime’s favorite colour,” he said, “for the clubs with women who can contort their bodies in ways you’ve never dreamed and great beauties, to boot.”

Jaime held out his hands. “For the record, I’d much rather we go somewhere where we can just drink and wake up with wicked hangovers in the morning.”

“Fuck you.” Bronn told him. “I want to see naked girls.”

“I heard of this club who specializes in dancers from Asshai,” Oberyn added, grinning at them. “They’ve got nothing on the Dornish but they’ll do.”

“My friend, I believe I know what you’re talking about.” Tyrion said, still looking at the map. “You speak of Shadowbinder. And it’s marked blue in my guide.” 

“Shadowbinder.” Jaime scoffed. “What can we expect there? Handcuffs? Straitjackets?”

This time, every man in the plane turned to look at him. 

Bronn was frowning, his hard face looking more lined than ever and exacerbated by how he wore his longish black hair slicked back from his forehead. Robert was shaking his head at Jaime, as if disappointed in him.Oberyn had his eyes narrowed, the look on his face indicating he thought Jaime wasn’t right in the head. Addam had one eyebrow cocked high to his hairline. Tyrion looked at him with his short arms crossed, as if a parent about to reprimand a child.

“Hey. I’m not saying we don’t have fun—“ Jaime started to say.

“ _We_ are having fun. You’re not.” Addam told him.

“Look, this is one night we’re all ways from our wives and children,” Robert pointed out. “It won’t do to have you whining as if you’re being brought before a firing squad.”

“And I’ve been planning this for months and months,” Tyrion added. “The least you can do is be appreciative of my efforts, brother. You think father even knows we took the plane?”

Jaime almost fell back on his seat in shock. “What the actual fuck, Tyrion? He will kill you. He loves this jet more than he does any of his children.”

“And he’s never going to know about it.” Tyrion said, waving his hand away. “So stop being a whiny cunt and take part in the fun. This is your last night as a free man, brother. Enjoy it.”

“My brand of fun simply doesn’t include strippers,” Jaime pointed out.

“Holy Seven Hells,” Robert this time chuckled. “Brienne must be a wildcat in bed if you’re immune to the idea of strippers.”

Jaime shot him a warning look. “That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean anything bad by it. But admit it. She does have phenomenal legs.”

“As I was saying,” Tyrion said loudly, shaking his head at Jaime before turning to the small crowd gathered around him. “We’re off to Shadowbinder first thing. It’s Red Priestess Night so brace yourselves for something pretty wild. I’ve also made reservations for us in The Golden Braavos.” He rubbed his hands excitedly. “I’ve booked us adjoining suites!”

“Oh, hells, Tyrion. _Alright. Alright._ ” The men except Jaime exclaimed, clapping their hands.

The rest of the flight was spent raiding the alcohol supply Tyrion had managed to sneak past Tywin Lannister’s sharp nose. By the time they landed, half of them were hammered and looked a little too happy. Addam kept on giggling, barely managing to stand upright let alone walk that he had to be escorted by Robert, red-faced yet still tall and formidable, down the metal stairs. Bronn was staggering a bit but that did not stop him from strolling down the stairs with a bottle of tequila in hand. Oberyn and Tyrion, who had drunk more than any of them combined, walked smoothly. Only their alcohol breaths and the pink flush on their cheeks gave them away. Jaime, forced to down a few drinks, was now dealing with the beginnings of a headache. He didn’t like to drink, was never good at it unlike his siblings. 

Braavos International Airport was the epitome of luxury. It had only the best restaurants, the most luxurious shops. Everything was so bright and white that Jaime found himself squinting, which did not help the slow galloping of horses between his ears as he followed his friends. Tyrion was leading their pack once again, his steps quick and large for a man of his size. “If you like the private jet, boys, wait `til you see this!” He exclaimed as he led them past the sliding glass doors.

Jaime was yawning again but froze when he saw what Tyrion was talking about. Around him, everyone had fallen silent in awe.

“The Seven fuck me hard,” he murmured disbelievingly. “Tyrion, _is that a fucking stretch Viserion?_ ”

Viserion was a luxurious brand of trucks and SUVs. Popular among the newly rich and the rock stars, its appeal was in its size, which could easily consume one and half spaces of a parking slot, and that ownership of it meant you had money to burn. It was Tyrion and Jaime’s favorite brand, one they had tried getting their father to buy years before. Tywin thought it was tacky, and he himself preferred sleek, classic, vintage cars. Tyrion and Jaime could afford it if they agreed to join Lannister Corporation but they were happy with their average salaries and having branched out to do their own thing. But still.

Oberyn, impressed, whistled. “You had to have it painted red and gold and with a lion’s head in front, Tyrion?”

The Viserion was painted in deep crimson with artful streaks of gold. The front had a giant, moulded lion’s head, lips and fangs bared in a vicious snarl. 

“But of course.” Tyrion said proudly. “Braavos should know that the mighty lions of Lannister are here to party hard. Everyone, this is our driver for the evening, Syrio Forel. Syrio, this miserable lot will be your clients for the evening. ”

Syrio Forrel was a plumpish man with a pleasant face and thick, black hair. He was dressed in a formal black suit. He smiled at them. “Good evening, gentlemen.” His voice had a heavy Braavosi accent.

“I’d introduce each of them but none are particularly remarkable.” Tyrion said. “But this one,” he said, gesturing at Jaime, who was still dumbfounded as he stared at the impressive, stretch car before them, “is my brother Jaime. He’s the reason we’re here. He’ll be getting married tomorrow to one hell of a woman with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. And the longest legs.”

“Shut it, Tyrion.” Jaime said. He nodded at Syrio. “Sorry you have to go through this.”

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Lannister,” Syrio assured him.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “No mister or ser business, Syrio. None of us are respectable.”

“Biggest dicks in Westeros.” Addam agreed, slurring his words slightly. Still leaning against Robert, he suddenly burst out laughing and snorting. “Biggest dicks! Dicks! We’re all penis-heads! Penis-heads!” 

Robert looked at them with a pained expression. “Why am I the one in charge of this bugger?”

Oberyn cleared his throat. He shook his head at Addam. “Someone needs to sober up. So, shall we?”

“Never thought you’d say it.” Tyrion threw his fist in the air. “Hear me roar, everyone!”

“Hear me roar!” They all shouted.

 

 

It wasn’t only in the stretch Viserion where endless streams of alcohol flowed. From the moment Renly and Ellaria had dragged a red-faced Brienne to the front of the screaming, predominantly female audience of Giddyups, she had a margarita in hand. It was never allowed to reach halfway down the glass. 

Ellaria had frowned at Brienne’s outfit and announced she wasn’t going to let her best friend go out in town dressed for a fucking PTA meeting. It took her, Renly and Cersei to quite literally pin a snarling Brienne down the bed and remove her clothes. Renly deemed her jeans good enough but frowned at the flats. Cersei rummaged in the closet before she produced a sleeveless turtleneck crimson top Brienne bought years ago but didn’t have the courage to wear. They put it on her, Ellaria deemed it conservative and, grabbing a pair of scissors, snipped the lower half. Brienne shrieked upon seeing how much the other woman had cut once she was facing the mirror. Cersei marvelled at her firm abs while Renly clapped his hands. 

Brienne didn’t care. She kept her arms around her bare stomach the entire drive, and would have done so as she stepped out of the car but Renly and Ellaria looped their arms around her waist. They were a big group and turned heads upon entering the club. Her cheeks burned when the admiring glances bestowed on Cersei, Ellaria, Ashara, and Lollys, even Renly, turned to frowning scrutiny at her. Brienne’s cheeks burned. Cersei, probably sensing her discomfort, stared them all down. 

“How do you even know of this place? I’ve lived here more than half my life and I don’t even know it.” Brienne said to them. She had to shout over the excited screams of the audience cheering for the show to begin. 

“We’re not exactly as behaved as you are, Brienne.” Ellaria said with a smirk.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Lighten up.” Lollys, standing beside her, clanked her glass of margarita to Brienne’s. “Just think. The day after tomorrow, Jaime Lannister is the only man you’ll see naked for the rest of your life. Not that you’re in a bad position there.” She added with a wink when Brienne’s flushed down to her neck. 

Cersei groaned. “Thanks a lot, Lollys. I could have lived without imagining that.”

Lollys laughed. “You’re an idiot.”

Ashara took a sip of her margarita. “Ugh. Shouldn’t the show begin already?”

“Eager to see other naked men, are we?” Renly teased her. 

“For the record, Addam is an exciting man,” Ashara told them. “But he’s, I don’t know, sometimes he can be. . .quite predictable.”

“Which is another word for boring.” Ellaria declared. Ashara glared at her.

“Addam is not boring. He’s just. . .I guess he has certain expectations and he’s really set on them. So it takes a while to convince him of other things.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re talking about.” Cersei said, taking a long sip of her glass. “You see Robert and you think lustful, really exciting. He looks like one of those men on the cover of cheap, lurid romances, right?” All nods. It was true. Robert Baratheon was nearly Brienne’s height, tall and broad-shouldered with thick, black hair, deep, dark blue eyes and rugged features. Aside from being handsome, he was also arresting and commanded attention simply by standing in a crowd. Brienne thought him a powerful, compelling man. 

She didn’t know if she was ready to hear what Cersei had to say about her husband but the alcohol in her blood had her inkling her head. 

“Like he’s all about throwdown, an animal in bed?” Cersei shook her head. “He’s a pussycat.”

“Aw, a pussycat is nice!” Lollys protested.

“Not all the time!”

Renly scratched his head. He looked sick. “We’re seriously not talking about my brother, are we? I’m not yet drunk enough for that. I’ll never be drunk enough for that.”

“Being a pussycat isn’t bad.” Cersei said, ignoring him. “But he’s a little too sweet, sometimes. Asking me if it’s alright, if he’s hurting me. If you’re going to fuck me just stick your cock in and be a man, you know what I’m talking about?” She made a sour face that did nothing in marring the beauty of her face. 

“Tequila.” Renly said with a groan. “We definitely need tequila. And Valium.”

“I’ll take a pussycat over someone who’s all about bedroom acrobatics.” Ellaria said. “It’s exciting, yes, I’ll admit, and Ashara, yes, I can tell you’re jealous. But I want vanilla sex every now and then. But Oberyn has to blow me away each and every time. He’s always introducing these creams and looking up positions, gadgets. Sometimes just looking at them is _exhausting._ ”

“Bronn’s well hung.” Lollys announced. “So I have no complaints.”

Cersei looked surprised. “Get out of here.”

“I’m serious! I know he’s not very tall but he’s practically got three legs. And he’s equal parts exciting and vanilla. He’s open to a lot of things. I mean, a lot. But he seems to always know when I just want vanilla.” 

“This is not helping the lone, single, unattached guy.” Renly sounded miserable.

Ashara grinned at Brienne. “So. What’s Jaime like?”

Cersei smacked her hand on her forehead. “ _Definitely_ need to drink all the liquor here. Renly, let’s go get tequila. Come on.” She took him by the arm and steered him to the bar.

“Uh, Jaime?” Brienne wished for the floor to swallow her up. How was she going to get out of this one? It was a question she had been asking herself since Renly told them about her father’s plan to separate her and Jaime until the wedding.

“Tell us.” Lollys leaned forward eagerly. “Jaime is soo beautiful.”

Brienne turned red, both from the alcohol and the scrutiny on her. As she opened her mouth, not really to answer but to say something, electronic thunderbeats resounded from the stage. It plunged to club to total darkness, sending the women screaming and hooting in anticipation. 

Suddenly, streaks and globes of red and yellow lights danced wildly on the stage. She shielded her eyes as five men wearing hooded cloaks stormed up the stage in single file before spreading themselves across. The women went wild.

“Oh, here we go!” Ashara cheered. “Whoo-hoo!”

Suddenly, garish, yellow light exploded all around. Brienne actually reeled back in shock but the crowd around and behind her was so thick that as soon as she did it, she was shoved forward. She ended up planting her palms right on the stage, mere inches from a big, heavy pair of army boots. Shocked, she leaped away again. This time she steeled her body from the force that would push her forward.

It did her little good. Despite the walls shaking from raunchy, beat-heavy music of no particular rhythm and the women screaming so loudly she swore she’d be deaf in ten minutes, there was no missing the unmistakable swoosh that touched the top of her head, flung back locks of her straw-blond hair as the stripper closest to her began to sweep off his cloak. She winced, trying to move away but the crowd had advanced and now bodies were so compressed not even onion-skin paper could slide between them. 

_“Oh. My. Gods.”_ Lollys mouth dropped open and she pointed.

The man in the center of the group and standing closest to Brienne was the embodiment of the Warrior himself. Thick, silky black hair hanging long and brushing his leanly-muscled shoulders. And his body was so defined and ripped he could be an anatomy model. An anatomy model for the gods. And that face. Smooth. Chiselled. Brienne’s heart fluttered. She even stumbled but that was because someone from behind suddenly shoved at her. Grimacing, she slammed an elbow to the perpetrator and continued gazing up at the living god before her. Though he was looming over the crowd standing straight with an impassive expression on his face like the other dancers, Brienne, due to her being taller everyone else behind her, was practically on eye-level with his cock. _I’d get a lock jaw if I even attempt—what the hell am I thinking?!?_ She swallowed and looked at his face again. 

This man could challenge her Jaime in looks. He was that beautiful.

Despite the music and the excited screams, Ellaria’s voice was clear as she spoke to Brienne: “Tell me you’re not on fire over _that._ My panties are toast. ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagined the Viserion as a stretch Hummer because, you know, it's so Tyrion.


	5. Amped Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's party time.
> 
> Some smut and some surprises.

If Brienne thought that being wedged between eager, screaming women watching the finest specimen of the opposite sex strip onstage was the craziest thing she’d ever done, the later the night went, the more she was proven wrong. She went from lending her voice to the tidal wave of estrogen in the club to throwing her arms in the air and shrieking as the men threw off the last of their clothes until they were reduced to minuscule g-string that did not hide their. . .uh, _generous_ charms.

“Take it off!” Cersei screamed from somewhere behind Brienne. “Oh, gods, take it off!”

Her roar was soon echoed in the entire club, culminating when Renly and Brienne hefted Lollys over their shoulders. Dainty and looking prim in her sleeveless button-down and black slacks, Lollys Stokeworth sent what was the equivalent of a battle cry through the crowd before she suddenly raised her shirt and flashed the dancers. The dancers all hooted in approval. One of them grinned at her, his teeth blindingly white, his dimples dreamy and skidded to his knees toward them. Lollys, Brienne and Renly screamed as the man started pumping his hips. Brienne, who was red all over more from embarrassment about being in front rather than the heat, could see his hairs. She could smell his sweat from _down there._ She was that close. And he smelled of baby powder. It was an okay smell as far as she was concerned. Unlike with Jaime, she wouldn’t dream of putting her nose anywhere near the dancer’s crotch. 

“For that, pretty girl, I’d like you to join me and make you come.” The dancer told Lollys, an exotic accent giving the words a sensual tilt.  
“Oh no, not me.” Lollys said as he offered her his hand. She pointed at Brienne. “Take her. She’s getting married this Sunday!”

“Lollys!” Brienne protested as the dancer smiled at her and offered his hand. No way was she going up the stage. “No!”

“Oh, she’s going.” Renly said firmly, beginning to push Brienne. She shoved back against him. 

“What the fuck, Renly?”

“I need help, ladies!” Renly yelled.

It took Ellaria, Cersei, Ashara, Renly, Lollys and two other dancers to get Brienne onstage. She gave up struggling, realizing she was not only embarrassing herself and her friends with her behaviour. When she had both feet on the stage, the god-like dancers put their arms around her waist and smiled at her. Then the rest of the dancers joined them and began to dance around her. Brienne knew she wasn’t beautiful but the way they were looking at her made it seem like she was. Despite this, her cheeks were red when they presented her to the screaming crowd after their energetic number. She squinted through the lights. 

The music shifted from a lively rock tune to a slow, jazzy number. Brienne was suddenly shoved down a chair and a blond, green-eyed dancer (oh, Jaime was still the best-looking man, hands down) suddenly started rubbing against her. She jerked back when his crotch suddenly came too close. She frowned. How was he blond when his hairs were dark? She didn’t want to look too closely but they looked black.

“Relax, sweetie pie,” he said, grabbing her hands and guiding them down his heavily-muscled chest. Dear gods, it was a bed of rocks. He was that hard. _Harder than Jaime._ And she hated herself for betraying Jaime like that. 

She bit her lip as a full-on blush began to spread starting from her forehead. From behind him, she could see Ashara screaming her head off, her silky black hair rippling down her shoulders. “Help,” Brienned mouthed at her. Ashara, reading her lips, shook her head and grinned.

“You’re a shy one, aren’t you?” The blond, green-eyed god teased her as he continued guiding her hands up and down his chest. Suddenly, he turned around. Before Brienne could react, he grabbed her hands to wrap around his waist and he swayed, rocking the well-defined, very round, very firm cheeks of his ass toward her. This time Brienne yelped, startled. She would have upended the chair if not for his quick, tight grip at her hands before continuing with the number. Still blushing furiously, she barely noticed when he faced her again, dropped to his knees and simulated giving her a long lick from crotch to chest before straightening with flourish and a wink. By then, Brienne could feel flames licking at her cheeks. 

She made to get up and head back to her friends when hands settled firmly on her shoulders.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” said a male voice behind her. “We’re not done with you yet.”

A shriek escaped her as the chair was suddenly yanked down—taking her with it. 

The crowd roared.

 

Tyrion had rented them the biggest, private room in Shadowbinder. The room was circular. The lower half of the walls lined with an all-around, sectional round sofa upholstered in animal print. At the centre was the catwalk from which the three dancers strode in their impossibly high heels towards the glittering, silver pole. Jaime, at Tyrion’s insistence, was seated right in front of the stage.

The women were young and very attractive: one was a redhead with big green eyes and creamy skin, the second a dirty-blond with bright blue eyes and the third a sultry brunette with soft brown eyes and a pouty red mouth. The redhead and the brunette were full-busted with curving waists and round hips while the blond only had medium-sized breasts, a somewhat boyish waist and the longest legs in the group. She had smiled at Jaime alluringly, dropping her eyes then looking at him as if she were shy and he wanted to smack Tyrion in the head. If his brother thought that any blond, blue-eyed girl would do, he thought, fighting off another yawn.

While the rest of the guys looked up eagerly at the women dancing and demanding more, Jaime did his best to look half-interested. The brunette had some gravity-defying boobs so that kept him occupied for a while, wondering how on earth her skimpy top that of sparkling threads was holding up those papayas. Brienne’s breasts were so small that she was as flat as a board. But her nipples were puffy and pink and she could come when he pinched them right. Thinking of Brienne’s breasts had Jaime thinking of her eyes, blue and soft when she looked at him when he fucked her, or how they brightened up when he surprised her with her favourite peanut butter and chocolate chip ice cream. Thinking of the ice cream had him thinking of that one hot summer weekend when he smeared it between her breasts and proceeded to lick the melting treat from her chest to her cunt. She had gone wild on the kitchen floor, screaming. Her face down to her chest was the colour of succulent raspberries, legs flung wide open, she thrusting at him madly—a lot more actively than the redhead was doing now, much to Bronn’s and Oberyn’s whooping approval. Everyone else was clapping so Jaime, keeping up appearances, joined them. 

The blond, a pretty thing with legs to her ears, winked at Jaime as she began to dance sensually while removing her glittery top. Jaime looked at her feet, the soles pink and her ankles looking swollen in the five-inch mules. He couldn’t stop the shudder of distaste that swept through him at the sight of her sparkling toenails. Brienne didn’t wear nail polish. He liked that she looked natural and fresh. 

Finally, the blond got her top off, revealing a firm pair of tits with pierced nipples. Jaime clapped politely as she threw her shoulders back though he couldn’t understand anyone willingly putting those things on nipples, no less. While he liked riling up Brienne with jokes about tattooing his name on her ass, he wouldn’t dream of having her lovely, pale, freckled skin marred with piercings and tattoos. He didn’t care if piercings were reportedly stimulating—only he would touch Brienne’s nipples. Again, his mind returned to a moment not too long ago. It was during their first visit to Tarth. 

Brienne had finally worn a skirt. When Jaime pulled her down with him on the lawn of Evenfall, he was shocked and pleased to discover her cunt bare under her skirt. He had Brienne straddle him, unbuttoned her blouse and made her come with his cock thrusting up at her. He had lain back and watched as she arched and curved and seemed to offer herself to the gods with her beautiful breasts. He loved that their close heights made it easy to keep his cock in her while he lipped her breasts. She held him to her chest afterward and he whispered he loved her over and over, in between small, heated kisses. When he took her again, he dragged out every sensation, took his time. She had gasped against his mouth as she came. "Jaime," she had whispered, caressing his hair, his cheek, her eyes silver-blue. "I love you." 

Seven Hells, he realized. He was getting hard. Clearing his throat, he suddenly stood up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Tyrion demanded. “Cindy here has a special number for you.”

“Uh. . .” For once, Jaime’s quick wit left him.

“The night is dark and full of terrors, man.” The redhead told him. “Hell is the world outside. Heaven is in here.” She smiled at him seductively.

“Ah, but Cindy, if I do exactly what I need to do in loo here, I think that’s fire that even R’hllor would run from.” Cindy giggled and Tyrion rolled his eyes. 

“Fine. But hurry back, Jaime.” He said. 

Jaime strolled out of the room and took a deep breath once he was in the hallway. He didn’t realize how thick and strong the dancers’ perfumes were until now, surrounded by what passed for fresh air in Shadowbinder. But he didn’t go to toilet. 

He walked past the bar and the other patrons cheering over the show happening onstage. He had his phone out and was dialling a number when he got to the parking lot. The stretch Viserion stood out among the other limos and cars there. It couldn’t help itself being the only one painted so brightly and tackily, with a lion’s head in front. Jaime turned away from it as he listened to the phone ringing on the other line. On the fourth ring, it was picked up.

There was a _lot_ of static. Finger in his ear, he said, “Brienne?”

More static. Then he heard a voice. . .it wasn’t Brienne.

“Jaime?”

He frowned. “Renly?”

“Can’t—ow. Wild—hell—wow! Wow!”

“What the hell is going on there? Why are you answering Brienne’s phone and not her?”

“No—Jaime—bye!” And the line went dead.

Jaime frowned at the phone and sighed loudly. He stared with resignation at the door of Shadowbinder, hung his head, looked at the sky and squared his shoulders. Staring forward, he slipped through the entrance.

 

“Oh, why couldn’t we have just started with this and stayed here?” Brienne remarked happily as she lay with her head on the edge of the tub. The sparkle in her eyes had returned and the flush on her cheeks was the glow of a satisfied woman reaping the benefits of a mud bath. 

After being onstage where the male dancers scraped everything in their arsenal of knowledge about women to make her feel comfortable and failing spectacularly, Brienne was finally allowed to leave and join her friends. Her relief was short-lived as Cersei dragged them to a table next and launched into a game of “Never Have I Ever.” Brienne had protested loudly, not wanting any part of it but they all forced her to sit down and down one tequila shot after another. She cringed over questions involving sex, romance—well, everything shouted over raucous laughter throughout the game. Lying would get her out of it but everything in her rebelled at the very idea even if it were only a game. 

Still, when Lollys squealed, “I’ve never had anal sex!” Brienne’s hand was cupped around the shot glass and moving toward her lips. Amazingly, everyone except Cersei drained their glasses dry.

A stunned silence fell in their group before Ellaria gasped, “Really?”

Cersei scowled at them and announced the game was over. Brienne, brave because of the alcohol, demanded that her goodsister spill the details as to why she had never. . .seriously, did Cersei not see how unbelievable that was?

“How can you let your husbands treat you as. . .well, it’s the very height of improper!” Cersei pointed out. Brienne’s ears turned red.  
Ashara smirked. “What makes you think it was our husbands?” 

Brienne bit her lip. She’d done it only with Jaime because he was the only one she trusted, the only one she wanted. She was grateful that the bright lights of the club didn’t show her blush as she recalled how she’d approached him hesitantly, shyly, and the surprised but pleased smile on his face when she finished speaking. She turned her attention back to her friends.

Everyone started chanting, “Spill, spill, spill,” until Cersei, growling at them but still looking beautiful, threw her hands up in the air and blurted out that though it frustrated her sometimes how Robert could be too sweet, she would kill him first if he even dared to raise the subject with her. “It’s improper, it’s dirty and it ruins the sheets! How can any of you like that?”

Renly grinned. “Well, if done right, it is _fucking_ good. And there are ways to avoid staining the sheets.” He exchanged a knowing smirk with Lollys.

Seeing that Cersei didn’t like the spotlight on her, Brienne suggested they go. And that was how they finally made it to Evenstar Spa.

Brienne had loved the sauna, she _loved_ the shower, loved how the jets melted away the stiffness at her neck and at her shoulders. Now she was neck-deep in a mud bath. Ellaria was on her right, her eyes closed, while Renly was at her left. Being a man, Renly should be on the other wing but he charmingly pointed out to the receptionist that he was gay and had never gotten hard on any woman. His eyes were closed but he nodded happily at Brienne’s remarks. 

Ashara, Lollys and Cersei were on the other side of the room, also neck-deep in mud. They too were smiling.

“I have to agree,” Cersei said with a very satisfied groan.

“Oh come on,” Ashara told them. “Those men were hot.”

“Bronn will be bald in five years,” Lollys mused. “But he’s still and will always be for me.”

“I’m sure I can get Oberyn grinding up a pole.” Ellaria’s dark eyes opened. She giggled. “Yeah. I can see that happening.”

“You should know that I’m imagining your husbands grinding up my pole.” Renly told them lazily. "Every time you talk about men in front of the only single gay guy in the entire Westeros, that's how's I'll imagine them. You're intelligent, grown women but all you talk about is boys, ugh."

“Be thankful I’m so relaxed right now,” Cersei murmured. “On the other hand, feel free to fantasize about my husband, _your brother_ greasing up your cock.” A collective _eww_ swept through them and Cersei smirked.

Brienne hummed a satisfied sound as the mud bath tickled her all over. The mud was goopy and dense—she could hardly move—but the cool, tingling sensation was not unlike what she felt when Jaime counted her freckles with his lips. 

She had hated her freckles until Jaime. Where she saw blots he saw. . .her cheeks went warm. . .raspberries. Unbelievable. Yet he had been saying it since the night he fucked her against the counter of his old apartment in the Red Keep. Raspberry Brew was a nickname he wanted for her but she’d shot him a murderous look so he only mentioned it every now and then. He whispered this secret nickname as they lined up to pay for their groceries. He said it against her lips when they kissed. Or when he rubbed his lips on her shoulder and murmured, “One raspberry, two raspberry. . .” 

She had a very sensitive patch of freckles on her left inner thigh. They had both discovered it one lazy Sunday morning. As usual, Jaime sough to keep her in bed by fucking her and making her come over and over again until she was boneless. He sucked on the firm skin as his green eyes bored on her from between her legs and, startled at the electricity suddenly dancing inside her inner thigh, she arched her back and let out a gasp. Every time he kissed her there brought the same reaction, and it got wilder each time. When he grew a beard during winter and it scraped the spot, she wept at the sensation. 

It was not a good idea to think of Jaime when she was naked and in a mud bath making her feel things. But there was no stopping the images rushing at her: Jaime’s tousled blond hair and his lazy smile as he lay beside her after fucking. His lips tugging hungrily at her nipple until it was swollen and sensitive. The warmth in his eyes as he watched her approach him in a crowd, as if she was his only world. His cock, long and thick, stretching her cunt, her gasping at the effort, spreading her legs wider because he was _that_ big. His harsh whispers in her ear about how she was always so _wet_ , so, so _wet._

Brienne shifted. She was wet and _aching_ right now. She opened her eyes and whispered to Ellaria, “Uh, do you think, if say, one has to go to the toilet, you know, you can leave the bath?”

“Hmm.” Ellaria’s eyes were closed. “But can’ you hold it? It feels so good.”

“You feel so good.” Jaime liked telling her that, his smile smug and sure, as he fucked her. “Your cunt is so tight. Guess I have to fuck you all day and all night so my cock won’t be so strangled when inside you.” He had smiled tenderly as she gasped _yes, yes, please._

She really had to go now. Brienne sat up. She had to get out of here.


	6. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime attempts phone sex with Brienne while waiting for takeoff. Brienne speaks to Selwyn. 
> 
> And a surprise guest.

After a day and a half, the red-eyed, bedraggled Lannister party was dropped off at the airport in the Viserion. Tyrion, once the leader of their group, kept having to run to the bathroom to throw up. Even Oberyn looked a little green. Addam kept rubbing his eyes and murmuring about coffee but he was in better shape than the rest of them. Even Jaime, who had forced himself to knock down one shot after another, had his aviator sunglasses on to shield his bleary eyes from the glare of the lights. A thousand horses were galloping in his head and being in the bustling airport of the party town of Braavos was not helping his condition.

He had tried calling Brienne before sleep claimed last night but she still had not answered so he left her a message in her voice mail instead. He was anxious to see her, not because he wanted to live between her legs for days (although there was that), but he hadn’t really liked the idea of being away from her with their wedding so close. He longed to cup her face in his palms, press his lips on her nape. Most of all he wanted the security of her strong, solid form in his arms. 

With Bronn being the most sober of them, he was charged with getting in touch with their pilot and making arrangements for their flight. Jaime joined his friends packed on the soft-backed, pliable seats of the airport, yawning yet again. In truth he wasn’t tired but he hadn’t gotten much sleep hearing Tyron throwing up over the toilet and Robert snoring. Not even sleeping with Brienne’s panties helped and the lingering scent of her cunt was drugging. Despite wincing, he grinned to himself, imagining how she would explode should he tell her about getting himself off with her panties to his nose. 

As Bronn got things organized, Jaime took a chance with another call to Brienne. She would be awake now, probably home from the spa already. She answered on the fifth ring, her voice thick and slurry. “Hel. . .lo?”

“Wife. I called you last night. Where were you?”

“Hmm. Around.” He heard something shuffling and voices, one Brienne’s, another, feminine and higher and another, deeper. A man. Jaime frowned. “Brienne?”

“Hold on, I’m stuck between Renly and Lollys.” Jaime breathed a sigh of relief. Of course Brienne wouldn’t be with another man. She wasn’t the sort to engage in a final fling just as he had been more annoyed than tempted with last night’s dancers. He listened to her move, shift, seeing her pale blond hair sticking out on its ends and looking like a haystack. Twin lines between her brows would form because he had interrupted her sleep. Her eyes would be breathtaking, clear despite being heavy-lidded. She was probably wearing a baggy t-shirt, one of his old boxers. 

Jaime sat back, wishing he was with her right now. Just looking at her. 

“Alright, all’s clear.” Brienne told him, her voice soft.

“Why are you whispering?”

“It’s still early. I’m sorry I missed your call last night. I miss you.”

That pleased him. “Did you miss my cock?”

“Jaime.” She growled.

“What? It certainly missed your cunt. Your mouth. Your—“

“If you’re going to keep talking like this, I’m going to hang up.” She said firmly.

He chuckled. “I do miss you, Brienne.” _I miss your eyes. Your smile. I miss how being with you is like being with a thousand suns._

“Did you have fun?”

“Robert and Bronn threatened to break my legs if I continued being a shit. I tried but it’s clear you’re the only woman I want to see naked. What are you wearing now?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Come on. Give your poor, horny fiancé a visual.”

“Nothing that would make you want to fuck me,” she said with a long sigh.

He cocked an eyebrow. Did she need reminding about the time he fucked her against the wall while she was in a bulky, turtleneck sweater that could easily have been his? “Description? Please?”

“It’s an old t-shirt. With a giant bear in front. You know it. I wore it the day we kept missing each other in the elevator. And my old jersey shorts.” 

He remembered the t-shirt. He also remembered she had underwear to go with it. “No underwear?” He asked hopefully.

“Goodbye, Jaime—“

“Fine. I’ll behave. Geez, Brienne. You won’t send me nude photos and now you won’t do phone sex.”

“I can’t have you making me. . .think things because I’m in the kitchen.” He could _hear_ her blushing, oh gods. What a saucy, adorable minx she was, he thought, smiling. “And Uncle Gal is just outside and my Dad is walloping the old canoe again.”

Well, that killed the beginnings of his boner too. Jaime cradled the phone to his ear. “I called to tell you I miss you. And we’re just waiting for the go-signal from the pilot.”

“I can pick you up from the airport.”

“Even if you come get me naked, I still won’t be able to fuck you right away. I’ve got a miserable bunch of buggers with me. I don’t want you around that.”

Brienne giggled. “Fine. I’ll see you home then.”

“Naked.”

“You’re a cockbrain, Jaime. But I love you, anyway.” Brienne told him. “Bye.”

“Goodbye. I guess I’ll just have to strip you as soon as I get there. I love you.”

“I love you back.”

 

Brienne clicked the button that ended the call. Talking to Jaime had energized her significantly, shaking away the last dregs of alcohol and the headache that still lingered. She felt loose-limbed and relaxed, as if she had just come from fucking. Better make sure she didn’t tell Jaime that talking to him on the phone relaxed her too, else he’d call her all the time from work and tell her a lot of inappropriate stuff that made her head spin. Phone sex, indeed! 

“Little Bree,” Uncle Galladon kissed her on the forehead as he walked by her on his way to the sink. “So. You ladies had great fun last night?”

“I’m not sure you’d want to know just how much fun we had,” Brienne told him, grinning as a pink blush climbed up to her cheeks. She hoped to the gods never to feel the same level of mortification she felt last night when one of the dancers had her remove his g-string with _her teeth._

She watched Uncle Gal put the freshly-washed strawberries in a basket and walked toward the counter, where she was sitting. She helped herself to a plump, succulent piece. Chewing, she nodded at Selwyn, who was still hollowing out the canoe. Uncle Gal, sitting beside her, followed her gaze.

“He will miss you, Little Bree.” 

“It’s not like I still live here.”

“It’s one thing when your daughter moves away to take care of herself. It’s another when she gets married.” Brienne looked at him then, at her gentle, sweet uncle. He looked a little wistful.

“You won’t lose me, Uncle Gal.”

“Can’t help thinking that, Little Bree.” He said, squeezing her hand. She squeezed his back looked back at Selwyn.

“Does he still—Uncle Gal, Jaime and I have been engaged for almost four years. He can’t still be. . .well, he still can’t be angry, is he?”

“Selwyn was never angry. He knew that when you brought Jaime home things were serious but I don’t think he realized just how much.”  
“But he congratulated us when we got engaged.”

Uncle Gal shrugged. “Engaged may be serious but it isn’t permanent. He’s being a father and a child, Brienne. He wasn’t around much and he finally was, that’s when you left. Nothing that either of you could do anything about. It’s the way of things.” He added with a shrug.

“Maybe I should talk to him.” Brienne said decisively. “He’s hardly spoken to me or Jaime and we’ve been here for days. Jaime hasn’t mentioned anything yet but that’s how he is. But I know for a fact it was Dad’s idea to keep us apart for a while until the wedding. I just wish that he’d said to me outright he wanted us to talk instead of being so sneaky about it.”

As Brienne turned to leave the kitchen, Uncle Gal called her back. 

“Be gentle, Brienne.”

Brienne squinted through the early afternoon sun to look at Selwyn. Her father was taller than her at six-foot-six, with wide shoulders and a frame that remained firm even after retiring from the military for more than a decade. He was a man of few words, like his daughter. She wondered how on earth she could talk to him and actually say what had to be said. 

“Dad,” she said, softly at first as she started walking toward him. As she approached, she called him again. Selwyn, hearing her voice, turned away from hollowing out the canoe to look at her. Sweeping the back of his arm across his sweaty forehead, he asked, “What is it, Brienne?”

They looked at each other. Except for Brienne’s freckles, she was all Selwyn, from her great height and broad, muscular form, straw-blond hair and mulish stubbornness that sometimes frustrated even Jaime. She looked at her feet, shod in old, worn loafers, then back at him. Her cheeks warming, she asked, “Er, how are things, Dad?”

Selwyn shrugged and resumed his task, turning away from her. “Same as always, Brienne. I trust the rest of your party is still sleeping?”

“We partied quite hard,” she admitted. 

Selwyn seemed to nod. Soon the only sound between them was that of wood being thwacked.

“Jaime will be arriving in a few hours. Uh, we might have to go over the last few details of the wedding. Won’t you join us, Dad? I mean, we’d really love your input.” 

“But I’m paying for the wedding and everything else already. Isn’t that enough?” Selwyn said, turning away from his work to look at her. 

Brienne’s eyes softened. “Come on. You can’t seriously think money’s all we want from you.” 

“What final details do we have to go over? Given how much I’m paying for the wedding, I expect all final details were made final days ago.”

She bit her lip. Selwyn and Jaime had argued quite loudly about who will foot the cost of the wedding. Jaime and Brienne had agreed they would pay for it together but Selwyn interpreted it is an affront to his ability to take care of his daughter. He had scowled at Jaime even when she explained it was both their idea. She spent the night just holding Jaime as he fretted at how her father liked to make things difficult. She knew she should defend him, understanding where her father was coming from but she also knew Jaime’s intention behind insisting pay for their own wedding. Despite his firm stance about refusing to be the wedge that might drive father and daughter apart, Brienne sided with him. 

“Fine. I’ll say it. You haven’t spent any time with me except for when there’s a meeting with the caterer, you also weren’t there when I tried on my dress. I mean, I was hoping but I didn’t expect but. . . _my uncles were there._ I also know you’re not talking to Jaime either. I thought you were okay with us? It’s been four years, Dad. I love Jaime. I’m sure about him. He makes me happy and I think I make him happy. At least, I’d like to. You can’t still be. . .you can’t be thinking that he’s taking me away again? Or those terrible lies about him?”

As she spoke, Selwyn sat down heavily on the edge of the canoe. He beckoned her to sit beside him. She dropped down on the edge of the canoe, looking at him, her eyes big and searching. At that moment, the expression on her face reminded Selwyn’s of his dearly missed wife. Gingerly, he put an arm around Brienne’s shoulders, realizing he was sweating.

“I may have. . .ah, taken quite a long time getting around the idea of you with that Lannister—I mean, Jaime.” His voice faltered when she frowned at him due to his calling Jaime as `that Lannister.’ The fight they had that had her storming off and getting into a bar fight would not easily be forgotten.“And I was hardly fair to your man in the beginning but. . .knowing him changed things. A lot of things.” He sighed. “Things I wasn’t ready for about him.”

“Jaime is the best person I know.” Brienne said passionately. “He’s. . .honorouable.”

Selwyn looked at her. “I know.”

“So why have you been avoiding us? Don’t lie, please.”

“Never.” Selwyn vowed. “Never to you, Brienne.”

She continued to look at him expectantly.

Her father was not the easiest man to get along with. Brienne knew that he didn’t blame her for her mother’s death but she also knew that in the first few years of her life, he chose missions and duty over his daughter because coming home reminded him of what he’d lost. She could understand that, probably far earlier than she realized. Despite her awareness of what her father was like, it still didn’t make knowing him or even being with him easier. He liked to keep to himself. He could go for days without speaking. He would always have walls that even she could never breach. It was a hard, bitter truth but she was living with it. But she couldn’t let this go on. 

So Selwyn started to speak. He spoke of things she didn’t think he would ever talk to her about it. He held her hand as he did, as if he worried she would leave, or maybe to convince himself this was happening—she couldn’t believe it either. Couldn’t believe for the first time that they were speaking with each other. 

They talked for the entire afternoon. 

 

Finally, the Lannister jet touched down on Tarth. The flight was delayed due to the high volume of air traffic so it was a long wait before they were cleared for takeoff. The men spent the entire flight sound asleep, tired and relieved to be on their way home back to their wives. Except for Jaime. For he had to wait until tomorrow to have a wife.

As he slept, his mind drifted to both past and to the future. He saw Brienne big and soft with his child, her cheeks redder than before, her eyes very vivid. He saw them playing with blond, blue-eyed children, their happiness unreal that it would never go beyond this world of dreams. When he was awakened by the gentle coaxing of the flight attendant telling him to put his seatbelt back on, he smiled, nodded and did as asked. The rest of his group were either up or just waking up.

Tyrion, sitting across the aisle from him, waved his cellphone. “Just got a text from Father. He wants to see you.” He looked a little healthier now, and his white-blond hair with its unruly waves have been brushed. 

Jaime groaned. “What the fuck does he want now? And why is he texting you and not me?” 

“He said you weren’t answering. The secret’s out. He knows we took the plane.” Tyrion shrugged. 

“Well, it’s been fun, brother.”

“At least we don’t have to worry about getting out of here. He’s sending a limo to come get us.”

With their party now rested and feeling much better, the talk among them was whether to swing by the nearest diner for cheeseburgers or go straight on Evenfall Hall since it wasn’t very far, anyway. Smirks and chuckles went around when Tyrion told them he and Jaime have been summoned by Tywin to his suite at the hotel. Tyrion pretended to punch them all in the dicks as they let out ominous sounds as they walked toward the arrivals area.

“Jaime? Jaime Lannister?”

Jaime turned around and saw a tall, dark-haired young man striding toward them, waving an arm. He squinted, wondering why he looked familiar but he couldn’t really place where he’d met the man before. Not a client, he knew. Not among Brienne’s friends because he knew all of them but something about him said she too knew him—

His mind reeled back to his first visit to Tarth.

“Gendry Waters.” Jaime drawled holding out his hand as the man reached him. Gendry nodded and took Jaime’s hand. “How are you?” He asked politely.

He had only seen the man one more time after that night in the bar. He and Brienne had taken him out to dinner on their last night in Tarth. Brienne claimed she knew him from college, that they were friends then, but from the strain in their conversation, Jaime knew she had exaggerated. He wondered about her need to fib. He wondered but didn’t ask. Brienne was honest but she hated being backed in the corner.  
“Doing well, thank you very much,” Gendry answered, pumping his hand eagerly. He was slightly taller than Jaime. Robert, who was standing next to him, looked at Jaime inquiringly. Jaime frowned, seeing a faint resemblance between them. But, he added to himself with a shrug, people who weren’t related could still look a lot alike. Although Gendry looked more like Renly due to his lean form rather than Robert’s strong build. 

“I’m Gendry, everyone. I’m a friend of Brienne’s. From college.” Gendry sent a friendly smile to the group.

“Are you here for the wedding?” Addam asked.

“Uh. . .wedding?”

“It’s small but we can definitely have one more guest.” Jaime said smoothly. “You still live here or are you leaving?” He asked, noting the small suitcase Gendry was carrying. He remembered them talking about how he was on sabbatical in Tarth.

“I’m presenting in a conference here on Monday.” Gendry said. “I finished my book. Working on the next one,” he added sheepishly. 

“Take a break from all that writing and come to my wedding.” Jaime couldn’t resist emphasizing the pronoun. His eyes were clear and his voice firm as he looked at Gendry. “Brienne would love to see you, I’m sure.”

“Oh? Is that. . .well, if you say so.” Gendry agreed. “So you’re getting married, huh? Congratulations. She’s wonderful.” His voice softened but it was enough to prick Jaime’s ears and his curiosity. 

“If you’ve just landed, you’re in need of transportation. Might we drop you off? Our father’s sent a most obscene stretch limo to pick us up.” Tyrion told him. “I’m Tyrion, by the way. Jaime’s brother.”

Despite still being a little bleary-eyed and his-t-shirt rumpled, Jaime admired the authority with which Tyrion spoke and carried himself. 

“Dr. Lannister.” Gendry’s eyes were big, clearly recognizing him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“None of that sir, stuff, Gendry. Call me Tyrion. Now this conference you’re attending. . .” Still talking, Tyrion and Gendry began to walk away from their group. 

Oberyn glanced at Gendry’s departing form then Robert. “Is it just me or do you two look alike? He looks like a Baratheon.”

Robert shrugged. “What would I know? My father thought his vows to my mother a loose set of guidelines until he died. Let’s go. Let’s go home to our wives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this series will explore Gendry's link to the Baratheons. I thought to be faithful to the cannon and have him as Robert's child. But I made him close to Brienne's age so that's impossible now. We'll see. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading! None of the characters are mine. All are from the mind of George RR Martin.


	7. Something Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise and coitus interruptus.

While the rest continued their way to Evenfall Hall, Jaime and Tyrion were dropped off at the Sapphire Isle Lounge. A doorman, having been clearly instructed to watch out for them, directed them toward the golf course. 

This was the hotel Jaime and Brienne would be heading to after the reception. Jaime would have agreed if Brienne preferred to continue staying at Evenfall Hall after the wedding because it was only one night more before they flew off to Dorne for their honeymoon. But Brienne, blushing heavily, told him that she wanted a place to themselves. He couldn’t resist teasing she must intend to have hotel security knocking on their door to reprimand them for being loud. He knew he could get loud too but it was pleasing that his wife-to-be was a lot louder. It had given Jaime great delight that he had started arranging for a basket of goodies to welcome them in their suite, all guaranteed to have Brienne screaming such that the entire isle would hear her.

Tywin Lannister, dressed in a crisp, white polo, pressed khakis and spiked golf shoes, was on the eighteenth hole when his sons found him. They stepped back a bit to let him take a sharp, graceful swing of the club before letting their presence be known. 

Jaime and Tyrion straightened up as their father looked at them. With his glacier-cold green eyes, sharp, chiselled features and a facial expression that was either unsmiling or a barely-concealed mask of disdain, neither of them liked being around their father. Tywin expected nothing but the best and had pressured his children to excel no matter what. That was when they were young. Now, he was always telling them to start taking over some portions of Lannister Conglomerate, something he felt they owed to him.

“You’re back.” Tywin said in that cool, enunciated way of his. “I trust my plane is still in one piece?”

“Jaime deserved to be sent off with a bang,” Tyrion replied, shrugging. 

“You sent for us?” Jaime, itching to get back to Brienne and kiss her senseless, was impatient. He met Tywin’s stare, their green eyes mirroring each other before his father seemed to nod and beckoned they follow him back to his suite. They shuffled quietly behind him.

“We’ve hardly talked. That’s why it’s only now I’m giving you this.” He said to neither of them in particular. Tyrion sprawled easily on an ottoman and helped himself to a grape from the fruit basket on the coffee table. Jaime sat down heavily on the couch, watching as Tywin pulled a large, square item from the closet. He stood before Jaime and held it out to him. Curious, Jaime took it and discovered it was a heavy piece of fabric.

“Open it.” Tywin commanded.

Carefully, Jaime spread it out. As every fold was smoothed, he slowly discovered that in his hands was a Lannister cloak. It was clearly old given the detailed gold stitching but the crimson colour was still vibrant. A roaring lion’s head clasp would hold the cloak closed once it was wrapped around the bride—because that’s what it was. A cloak that he would wear first before wrapping ititaround around his bride. Jaime held his breath as his fingers touched the lion, noting that its eyes were sapphire gems.

Tyrion, who had been watching, nodded. “Brienne would be exquisite in it.”

“It was your mother’s.” Tywin said, looking at the cloak. “I thought you should have it, Jaime. Some changes were made, however. Brienne is lot taller than Joanna so the cloak was lengthened. The original gemstones for the lion’s eyes were rubies but your bride needs something blue.”

Jaime, moved by the gesture, looked up at Tywin. “This is beautiful, father. Thank you.  
”  
Tywin nodded then turned to Tyrion. “You should think about getting married, Tyrion. You’re my eldest, for gods’ sakes. How do you think it looks that your younger brother and sister got married before you do?”

Tyrion snorted. “I’m married to my work. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

That clearly did not please Tywin as he frowned and glowered at his unblinking, dwarf son. Jaime groaned. It looked like he won’t be seeing Brienne yet. 

 

Brienne was disappointed that Jaime wasn’t among the men who returned. She watched wistfully at the reunions all around—Ellaria throwing her arms around Oberyn, Cersei being kissed gently by Robert, Addam leading Ashara away from the crowd and Lollys whispering something to Bronn’s ears that had him laughing. The children, whom Uncle Dunk had watched over, were glad to see their parents. Soon, Cersei and Robert were walking away, Joffrey between them and holding their hands as he talked about being taken sailing by Uncle Dunk. The Martells let their daughters drag them away. Bronn pulled out his phone, holding it between him and Lollys as they talked to their daughter, who was staying with her grandmother. 

She went back to her room, thinking to wait for Jaime there. Her wedding gown had arrived yesterday, while she was still out. She hoped Jaime would sleep with her but didn’t want him seeing her dress. She put it in the closet, and, feeling restless, decided to pour it towards one of the required readings for when her PhD classes resumed next week. 

Try as she might to concentrate, she couldn’t help but stare out of the window and toward the sapphire waters of Tarth. In the sun, the waves gleamed like the facets of a magnificent, giant jewel. 

Looking at the water always gave her peace, and now that she and Selwyn had talked, she felt it even more. Perhaps things would change between them now; she hoped they would be closer, and hoped in her heart of hearts that when she and Jaime had children, Selwyn would spoil them rotten. A smile lit up her face at the thought. Selwyn playing with blond, green-eyed children, children who called him, “Gramps” or “Pops.” They would have what she didn’t have with her father. 

Happily, she went back to her reading. She was reading for close to an hour when the door swept open. “Jaime!” She exclaimed upon seeing him saunter in, rumpled, his familiar smirk on. She stood up, made to go to him but he strode to her quickly and pulled her in his arms. She laughed as she was enveloped in his familiar scent. So what if he smelled mostly of sweat, a faint trace of alcohol, and very faintly of his aftershave? He was still Jaime. _Her Jaime._

“Sorry I took so long getting back, wife,” Jaime said, squeezing her to his chest and peppering her cheek with kisses before letting her go. He smiled and she felt her heart catch. Unable to resist the pull of his eyes, she lowered her head and kissed him on the mouth. He groaned in pleasure and pulled her close again. “Maybe I should be away more often,” he teased her between kisses. “Imagine if I was gone for a month.”

“I’d like to see you try,” she teased him back, flushing. She giggled as he licked the side of her neck, as if she were a sweet treat. “Jaime,” she whispered heatedly when he squeezed her buttocks and he ground his erection against her. Then his mouth was on hers again, kissing her as if is next breath depended on it. She felt her brain short-circuit when he managed to pry her lips to open even wider so he could suck her tongue. 

Despite digging her nails in his shoulders, she started to sag against him, reduced to just leaving her mouth open and gasps emitting from it as he continued sucking on her tongue then licking it. Dimly, she felt her legs leave the floor and then the firm mattress was at her back, Jaime pressing her down on it. The rough denim of his pants scraped the scrubbed skin of her thighs, startling her with the intense sensation. 

All too soon, he was pulling away. He grinned smugly as she whimpered in protest. “I need to shower, Brienne,” he explained, resting his forehead against hers. 

She nodded, and, teasing him again, murmured, “You do smell like you’ve been having too much fun without me.”

“Not as fun as you think.” He licked her upper lip. His hair fell forward, tickling her nose. “Join me?”

“I took one earlier.” She said regretfully. She sighed as he buried his nose in the arc between her neck and shoulder, nudging away the collar of her old, worn t-shirt.

“You smell different.” He murmured, inhaling deeply. He continued nuzzling her. “You smell of coconut and other exotic fruits.” 

“Sorry.” She ruffled his hair gently as he kissed her. “I know how much you like my vanilla scent.”

He raised his head and grinned. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it, Brienne.” Then he sniffed under his arm. “I don’t like how I smell, though. You sure you don’t want to take another shower, wife?” He started raising her t-shirt until he could cup a small breast. He watched as she closed her eyes and breathed his name. 

“If I get too clean you might not want to get me dirty.” She managed to bite out, breathing fast and hard as te rough skin of his fingers scraped her aching nipple. When he pulled his hand away, she opened her eyes and whimpered. She blushed as he grinned, clearly delighted with her bold talk. 

“A quick shower, then.” He looked at her from head to toe, in a way that seemed to singe her clothes off. “Don’t go anywhere. I've been wanting to fuck you since yesterday.”

He rolled off the bed, taking off his clothes as he did. She watched as his wonderful, bare skin was revealed, then the impressive muscles of his body. He grinned at her over his shoulder, catching her right in the act of drooling over him. She turned away and went back to the window seat, picking up her book from where it had fallen. 

Jaime did make it a quick shower. There was no resisting him once he was standing before her, a towel wrapped low around his lean waist, droplets of water clinging to his beautiful golden skin. Jaime laughed as Brienne, red-faced, tore off her t-shirt and leaped into bed with him. Fuck, but they should take more vacations, he thought as she pushed him on his back. Brienne was uninhibited. 

She was leaning over him, gasping as he sucked her nipple, and pinched and pulled the other when somebody knocked on the door. Brienne froze. Jaime groaned and released her nipple with a loud popping sound before calling out, “Just a minute!” 

“There’s no need to rush.” It was Selwyn. This time, Jaime froze. Brienne bit back a laugh at his horrified expression. “We’ve set up a barbecue out front. I thought you might like that.”

“Uh, sure, Dad! Thanks!” Brienne said as Jaime covered his flushed face. But her face was redder. “We’ll be right down, though.”

“Alright.” And they heard him shuffle away.

“There goes my boner,” Jaime pretended to complain. “Damn. And I want so much to fuck you.”

Though she felt as taut as a bowstring, she teased, smiling down at him, “Is fucking all you can think about?”

“When you’re in the room? What else?” Jaime said, clearly unapologetic for his blatant desire. He leaned back on the pillows and opened his arms. “At least let me hold you, Brienne. I did miss you. Sleeping with your panties at my nose is nothing like holding you.”

“That’s disgusting.” She told him, making a face but dropping her head on his chest anyway. She sniffed appreciatively. “You’ve been using my vanilla soap, I see.” She put a long arm around his waist. Her lips moving against the side of his chest, she murmured, “Jaime, um, we won’t. . .we won’t be staying long at the dinner, are we? Because. . .I missed you.”

She felt him smile. “Is that your shy way of telling me you want to fuck me too?”

In reply, she punched him on the shoulder. He nuzzled his nose against her straw-blond hair and said, “Your hair feels softer.”

“They conditioned and put minerals on it at the spa.” She knew they should get up but she really missed being in his arms too. “Among other things.” She bit her lip, wondering how he would react when he found out what other things she had done at the spa. Would she be able to keep her shorts and hold off on the surprise?

He played with her hair. “I’m jealous.”

“Why am I not surprised that Jaime Lannister would like to be pampered?”

“Are you telling me you don’t like massages?”He was smiling as he rubbed soft circles around her back. “Gods, Brienne. Where else are you softer? Maybe we can fuck quickly.” He wagged his eyebrows at her and she laughed, shaking her head as she looked at him. 

“What did Tywin talk to you about?” She asked curiously. 

“Believe it or not, it was to do something incredible for us. For you, especially.” When she started to ask more questions, he pressed a finger gently on her lips. “Unh-unh. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow, Brienne. You have to be my wife first.”

His wife. Somebody she had never dreamed to be. Jaime Lannister’s wife. Mrs. Jaime Lannister. Brienne Lannister. Mrs. Brienne Lannister. She rested her chin on his chest, content to just be with him like this for now. 

“How do you feel about tomorrow?”

“The truth?” Jaime asked. She nodded. “Like it’s taking forever. Not just because I can’t wait to fuck my wife but because I’ve been wanting you to be mine since you sang `The Bear and The Maiden Fair.’ I must have already loved you back then, Brienne. I dreamed of you that night too.”

Startled, all she could say was, “You never told me this.”

“I had no intention to. But, it’s out.” Jaime shrugged and smiled at her. “What’ll you do? Tease me mercilessly about it?”

She snorted. “That sounds like you, not me.” 

He kissed her on the forehead. “Just giving you a hard time.”

As he spoke, his cock pressed against her thigh. Her breath locked at the feeling of this hard flesh pushing against the softness of her inner thigh. Tentatively, she lowered her hand to his cock. Her eyes were soft, vivid blue boring into his hot, green gaze. He let out a strangled sigh as her fingers pushed through the curls to grasp him. His heaps jerked on instinct.

“Payback, wife?” He growled, his eyes falling close. _“Gods.”_

Jaime was a beautiful man but for Brienne, he was most beautiful when he looked like this: trusting her with his pleasure. She gazed at him hungrily, loving the play of light on his golden hair, the firm, high planes of his cheeks, his slim lips parting half-open, the beard that outlined the strong line of his jaw. Still holding his swelling cock, she pressed light kisses down his chest, circling her tongue around the small buttons of his nipples. She kept her eyes on him, silently willing him to open his eyes and look at her. 

When he looked at her, she believed at last she was someone loved.

His eyes opened. 

“Let me do this for you?” She asked, begging him. “Please, Jaime?”

He shook his head as his cock grew harder. “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.” She took a deep breath and blurted out, _“I always want to.”_

She was blushing as she spoke, blushed even more as she positioned herself between his long, muscular legs. By the time she lowered her head toward his thrusting member, her cheeks were the colour of beets. She kept her eyes on Jaime’s as she licked him from base to leaking tip over and over.

He jerked. “Seven Hells, Brienne. _Brienne._ Oh gods, Brienne.”

“Jaime.” His cock, long, thick, beautiful, continued to leak. She placed a tender kiss on the tip before her tongue flicked out to capture the wet bead hanging from it. He tasted faintly of salt, soap, and Jaime. She alternated between soft, airy brushes of her lips and small licks. His fingers at her hair were beginning to get painful but she made no move to shake him off, too enthralled by the taste of him, by his half-closed eyes. His groans filled her ears. 

“I love you, Jaime.” She whispered, briefly releasing the fat, plum-like head of his cock from her lips.

Their eyes met.

“Don’t stop.” He told her, meaning not just this moment, but for whatever else will happen to them. 

She shook her head. “Never.” 

As she lowered her head to fully claim him, somebody knocked. _Again!_ Both of them howled in frustration. Jaime glared at the door and roared, “What the hell is it?” while Brienne muttered, “Seven fucking hells.” He kept a light hand on her hair, startled at the barely-restrained annoyance in her words. She buried her head against his thigh, her short hair fanning across his stomach. 

“Sounds like I interrupted a very happy reunion,” Came Bronn’s sarcastic reply. “What are you doing in there, rich boy? Everyone’s waiting for you.”  
“Shut up, Bronn.” Brienne snapped, raising her head to glare at the door.

“The gods fuck me hard,” Bronn remarked drily. “Did Brienne just tell me to shut up? You’ve corrupted your sweet fiancée, Jaime.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to feed your balls into the grinder and serve them up as first course,” Jaime snarled. 

“Your threats are idle, as far as I’m concerned,” Bronn shot back loftily. “People always wanting to grind up balls. Fucking hell, be original, will you? At least Lollys—“

“I don’t fucking care what your wife does with your balls!” Jaime yelled, startling Brienne. She placed a well-intentioned kiss on his firm stomach but it made him more tensed. He grunted, gripping her head. 

“Seriously, Jaime, if that’s a roar, I don’t think it would even scare away mice.” 

Jaime snatched the pillow under his head, nearly hitting Brienne if not for her quick reflexes. He threw the pillow at the door and Bronn burst out laughing. 

Unable to have the reunion they wanted, Jaime and Brienne were cranky and wore sullen faces in the beginning of the barbecue. Bronn also had the other men torment Jaime, shutting up only when Brienne growled that she would throw them over the cliff. The men backed away soon after, knowing fully well that Brienne was not only bigger but also stronger than three of them combined. Touched by her loyalty, Jaime kissed her and made sure it was the kind that had everyone clearing and coughing discreetly before he pulled away. 

The night was filled with laughter and great food. Uncle Endrew and Oberyn alternated between taking over the barbecue, ribbing at each other good-naturedly. Brienne sat leaning against Jaime, her hand on his knee and his arm around her shoulders as they spoke with Renly. The gathering had transformed into a spontaneous party and the couples, of course, stayed close to each other but made a point to make sure that the unattached in their group were not left alone too long. 

Tywin and Selwyn had awkwardly attempted to talk to each other before Ashara smoothly joined their conversation. There was no question that Tywin found her attractive being that he couldn’t take his eyes off her, while Selwyn kept the conversation going. Soon they were joined by Tyrion.  
The children were entertained by Uncle Duncan’s stories of intrigue and espionage. Cersei thought the stories were too mature for the children so he started changing the details. A Lyseni terrorist became an evil dragon, the spunky government agent became a prince intent on saving his kingdom. And the guns, of course, became swords.

Left to themselves for a while, Jaime helped himself to some of the potato salad from Brienne’s plate while she took a sip of her iced tea. The night was pleasantly warm despite the cool, strong winds from the sea. It was pleasant being pressed against Jaime. His skin was warm and the scent of his soap and spicy aftershave a cocoon. She watched his throat move as he swallowed the food, and marvelled that a movement as mundane as this could make her warm and tingly. 

Sensing her stare, he turned to her with a smirk. “Like what you see, wife?”

She blushed, dropping her eyes. A gasp escaped her as he suddenly leaned close and whispered, “I definitely do.” 

Feeling daring, she whispered back, her hand drifting higher on his muscular thigh. “You’re not popping a boner right now, are you?”

Jaime’s laugh drew attention to them and her cheeks leaped to a rich red befitting of her husband-to-be’s old house colors. He laughed louder and louder, his cheeks pinking, tears beginning to slide from the crinkled corners of his eyes. The more she hissed at him to stop, the louder he laughed. When she rolled her eyes and attempted to get to her feet, he quickly put a hand on her thigh, squeezing the firm muscle. She waited for him to quiet down until his head fell on her shoulder. 

“There’s only thing to do with you, Brienne,” he told her, looking at her as if to memorize every freckle on her face, every imperfection and strangely, not finding her lacking in any way. He cleared his throat and put his arms around her. “The only thing to do with you,” he repeated, “is love you. I love you, Brienne Tarth, soon-to-be-Brienne Lannister, my wife. Mrs. Lannister.” He grinned. “I am yours and you are mine. Every wonderful, sexy, freckled inch--”

He was being ridiculous and embarrassing himself. She told herself she kissed him to shut him up, but both knew that was just one of the many reasons to kiss Jaime Lannister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Brienne is no maiden, I changed the maiden's cloak to a bridal cloak.


	8. Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst-smut-fluff.  
> Starts a bit with angry sex.

As the hour grew late, people started retiring to their rooms in slow trickles. First was Uncle Endrew, claiming he threw his back out flipping burgers. He enveloped Brienne in a deep, bear hug, kissed her soundly on the forehead before leaving. Bronn was struggling to hold up Lollys, who was yawning hugely. He shook hands with Jaime and wished Brienne luck, winking at her as she blushed. Renly followed—not to go to his room but to go for a drive around Tarth since he was feeling pretty restless. Robert and Cersei exchanged a look at that, and decided that they should leave as well, but to go to their rooms. They took Joffrey with them .Uncle Gal, Ellaria and Oberyn were next, each of them kissing Brienne on the cheek. Jaime frowned when Oberyn teased Brienne that there was always room for her in their bed should her husband turn out to be a lousy fuck. Ellaria smacked him on the head and told their daughters their father was just joking. Addam and Ashara left shortly after that, then Tywin. Tywin asked Tyrion to walk him out but before leaving, he gave Jaime a look that told him not to mess up tomorrow before he turned to Brienne and told her he looked forward to having a new daughter. 

Selwyn, the last to leave, put a hand on Brienne’s shoulder. “Don’t stay up too late.” He told her, bending awkwardly to kiss her on the forehead. He patted Jaime on the shoulder and walked away.

Brienne stared after her dad’s tall, shuffling form. The bright light of the moon fell on her, bathing her in an ivory light that rendered her skin paler and luminous, and her eyes bluer. A soft breeze ruffled her pale blond hair, pushing it back to reveal the surprisingly delicate shell of her ears, the long, elegant line of her strong throat. Jaime, sitting on the table with his feet stacked on the bench below it, shifted so he could cage her between his legs and pull her in his arms. A pleased sigh drifted from her as she leaned her back against his chest. 

Brienne shivered as his lips found her hair, brushed the sensitive nerves at the back of her ear. Gentle kisses from Jaime were pretty great too, and there were times when she preferred them over the consuming, open-mouthed ones they gave each other more often. Tonight was one of those times. A day and a half apart, a lot shorter when their different responsibilities sometimes took them away from each other, yet it felt so long since she’d been held like this. It was thrilling and terrifying. Four years were short when compared to a lifetime of knowing you weren’t desirable, touchable. That she had gotten used to it, how she couldn’t imagine without being held by Jaime, caused her heart to still in a way that left her cold. 

“Wife,” Jaime nuzzled her nape. “What happens now, hmm?” 

“Tomorrow, we’re getting married over there.” She pointed at still-empty portion of the garden. Professional gardeners had trimmed the grass and cleared the area for the chairs that will be set up there early tomorrow morning. Uncle Gal told her that this was the same spot where her parents got married. She wondered if her father remembered it, and twined her fingers with Jaime’s. She felt his breath pick up when she brought his hands to her lips and started kissing them. He had beautiful hands. Wide palms with long, elegant fingers. “Brienne,” he whispered, burying his lips between her shoulders as she continued kissing his hands. 

Then he was moving, turning her around so she was facing him. She nibbled on her lower lip as he looked at her with eyes soft as burnished emeralds, that expression of both awe and acceptance on his face that should be familiar now but will never be. How could he see me as I am and still want me? For Jaime had never called her beautiful. Yet he always seemed to see her as something wonderful. It was surprising and terrifying. Surprisng because she never thought, she never ever thought it would be possible. And terrifying because he might see her, really see her one day and think what magic had possessed him? Her breath quickened at the idea and she shivered.

“None of that,” Jaime soothed her, his hands rubbing up and down her bare arms. His fingers lingered on the bulge of defined muscles on her upper arms. He pulled her close. “Let me warm you.”

 _Let me hold you. Let me warm you. Don’t stop._ Jaime, this proud man, would beg her. Her. As he pulled her closer again so he could brush kisses across her forehead, she said, “There’s something I want you to know.”

He continued kissing her, touching her as if she were crystal yet also like he was never letting go. Her. The only thing to do with you is love you. She closed her eyes and let him take her lips in a kiss that almost brought tears to her eyes. 

“Jaime,” she whispered as he kissed her cheek, her jaw. “Jaime. I want you to know. . .”

He caught her face in both hands. _“Gods, look at you,”_ he gasped. 

Shocked and confused, she dropped her eyes. “I-I-I know what I look like. That’s why I want you to know that—“

He kissed her deeply. She moaned, lost herself in the hunger of his kiss before she pulled away. Looking right into his eyes, she blurted out, “Jaime, you don’t have to marry me.”

Jaime, who had been about to kiss her again, froze and frowned. _“What?”_

“That you love me is more than enough.” She said, her heart thudding heavily in her chest, so loudly she could hear it. “It’s more than I ever wanted.”

Jaime, still frowning, narrowed his eyes at her this time. She felt as if she were a prey being sized up and finding her easy to mow down. “What the fuck are you talking about, Brienne?”

“I love you.” She said. “And I know you love me. I want you to know it’s more than enough. You don’t have to marry me.”

“Seven Hells,” he ground out. His eyes were emerald shards. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you speaking of our marriage as if it’s something we have to do? A day and a half without my cock in you and this is how you think?”

“I’m saying,” Brienne said, her cheeks reddening, _“very badly—“_

“Indeed.”

“I appreciate this.” She waved her hand vaguely. “I mean, the marriage will be a nice bonus—“

 _“You think marrying me is a fucking nice bonus?”_ Jaime echoed loudly. 

“What you said earlier,” she said. “When you said the only thing to do with me is to love me. Jaime, nobody’s ever told me that. So thank you. I want to thank you for choosing to marry me.”

“What the—“ Jaime started to say before he ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance and scrubbed his face harshly with his palm. “You’re thanking me? _For choosing to marry you?_ Wife, do you think I’m granting you _a favour?_ ”

“You don’t have to marry me,” she pointed out. “You already love me.”

“Seven hells I do but I’m rethinking that right now because of the idiot in front of me. I’m not marrying you as a favour, _you fool._ I don’t have to marry you, yes, but I definitely want to marry you. Know the difference in that big head of yours.”

“But—but—“ Brienne started to sputter. Blushing even more, she demanded, “But Jaime, I’m—I mean look at me! Look how I am.”

Jaime raked her from head to toe. “Believe me, wife. I am. And you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought if how you think you look matters to me in that way. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“I’m saying you don’t have to prove anymore you love me.”

“On the contrary, I believe I have to prove once again how much I love and desire you. When will you start believing me?”

“I believe you! That’s what I’m saying!”

“Really? Because what I’m still hearing is how my marrying you is a _favour._ That’s it’s something I _have_ to do. That’s it.” Jaime suddenly leaped off the table. Glaring at her, he grabbed her by her arm and started dragging her behind him. Brienne stumbled but he didn’t stop moving, storming in long, angry strides across the lawn.

“What—what’s happening? Jaime, what are you—“

Her head knocked back as he whirled her around too suddenly. His fingers bit hard into the flesh of her arms. His jaw tight, he bit out. “If it takes me the whole night, the Seven Help me, but after tonight, you will shut up about me having to do things for you and how you keep thinking of yourself so lowly. I love you, Brienne. I want you. I want to marry you and live with you and our children and grandchildren and cats and dogs and hamsters. I want to fuck you morning, noon and night. I want you sitting across from me over breakfast, I like my desk beside yours at home so I can watch you when you're so focused on writing. I don’t _have_ to. I _want_ to because _I love you._ You're all I've always wanted yet also what I never thought I'd want. Get it?”

His words made her heart thunder heavily in her chest. She tried shaking him off. “You’re hurting me.”

“Good. Because _I’m hurt._ How can you think I’m only marrying you because I _have_ to?” His teeth gnashed in anger and his breath came out in harsh plumes that slapped her right in the face. But the light in his eyes had dulled. He really was hurt. 

“I’m sorry.”

Jaime continued to glare at her.

“I’m sorry.” She repeated, trying to put her hands on his face. Since he retained his manacle grip on her uppers arms, she couldn’t touch him as she wanted. But she could lean forward. She brushed her lips against his. 

Jaime snapped his head back. “That’s not enough.” 

“I’m really sorry. I was only trying to say that I love you no matter what and I won’t stop, Jaime.” As she spoke, she kissed him again on the lips. “I won’t, I swear—“

“That’s hardly an apology.” He growled. “Seems to me you need a lesson you won’t forget.” 

Brienne squawked as he surged forward again, still dragging her. She tripped, she stumbled, told him to stop. Suddenly, he grabbed her by the waist. 

“Jaime, wait—“ she started to say but he snarled and shoved her against a tree. It shook from the impact. Then he was on her.

His mouth ravaged her, a branding kiss that drove everything she knew out of her head. Yet her shock was momentary and soon she was kissing him back as ardently, as fiercely, moving and pushing against the unyielding wall of his body in her attempt to get closer, closer, closer. He pinned her against the tree, rocking his hips against her in echo of the reunion they could have had earlier. The rough bark of the tree dug in her back but she had no choice but let him press her there. Finally wrenching her arms free, her hands were able to climb up to his shoulders, his face before her fingers sank in his hair and clutched. He pushed his tongue in her mouth. It was a wet, open kiss. Sloppy, with no finesse at all. One hand cupped her breast and squeezed it hard, making her cry out. 

Then her mouth was free, tingling and swollen. His eyes still hard, he sent his lips to her throat. Suddenly allowed to breathe, she slowly registered he was murmuring something as he kissed her and began to pull at her clothes. She didn’t know how long her head was in the clouds, how deep she’d sunk in the spell his kisses. One by one, his words roused her.

“—your braying laugh—“he murmured, memorizing every line and curve of her throat—“your smile, your big teeth, your phenomenal blue eyes, how your eyes light up, when you’re hunched over your computer—“a long lick—“your hands, gentle and strong, the way you look at me, what you see in me, when you love me, how you love me—“he started pulling up her t-shirt—“gods, Brienne, _you’d better love me,_ you stupid, obstinate, lumbering—“she squeaked as his lips wrapped around her nipple— _“giant.”_

“Jaime, I love you.” She gasped as he started to suck.

Desperate for more of his touch, she pulled off her t-shirt and arched, offering herself fully to him. The tree was cutting in her back but she was past caring. The only motions she made were to keep his head against her breasts where his mouth was doing wonderful, wicked things. He nibbled, he sucked, grazed his teeth across the tight nubs. She raised her leg, kicking off her sneaker as she did, to wrap it around his hip. He groaned against her chest as he rubbed against her, his erection seeming to press through the barriers of their clothes—he was that hard. 

“I love your hair, or whatever that bird’s tangle on your head is called,” he said after releasing her red, swollen nipple. He cupped her face, his eyes catching hers as he continued grinding against her. “I love that you love coffee. I love that you always line up our toothbrushes together. I love that you squeeze the end of the toothpaste.” His fingers closed around her neglected nipple and pinched it. Hard. 

“Jaime,” she moaned at the hot pain. Her head slumped back against the tree as Jaime gave her another soul-searing kiss.

Again she was pinned against the tree. She kept her leg wrapped around him as their mouths and tongues duelled, as his hips continued to jerk against her. Jaime was telling her he loved that she wasn’t that good a cook when he suddenly gasped, his hot breath filling her mouth.

“Seven Hells!” He ripped his mouth away from her.

Puzzled, Brienne looked at Jaime, his eyes big and his expression warring between laughter and shock. He pinned her against the tree even more as his hips jerked violently against her. Realizing what was happening, she whispered, “Oh, Jaime—“

 _“Fucking Seven bloody hells,”_ Jaime growled as his head fell back and something warm and wet hit Brienne’s inner thigh. She clung to him as he pumped against her, rubbing frantically against her covered mound. He kissed her on the chin, sucked on the hard line of her jaw. She sought his mouth and he gave it to her, kissing her as his body shuddered sharply before sinking heavily against her. 

Still clamped between Jaime and the tree, she could only breathe shallowly. The air was the sweat still warm and sliding down the sides of his face, his neck, mingling with hers. It was their warm, flushed flesh. It was the sharp scent of his come dripping down her thigh. 

“I love,” Jaime said, still panting a little as he raised his head to look at her. His hand was gentle on her cheek. “I love that wanting you and loving you so much has made me come like a green boy of fourteen.” 

She moaned as his lips ate her mouth in a kiss so gentle it had to be a dream. This time, Jaime pulled her away from the tree and she shivered at the sudden surge of the wind that touched her bare back. His hands roamed her waist, the back of her shoulders, her hips still clad in shorts. Sunk in his kiss, her head feeling too heavy and too light at once, she realized too late that he was unzipping her shorts. It was halfway down her legs when she realized what was happening. Her face exploding in rich crimson, she cried out, “Jaime, wait—“

“What the—“ Jaime, whose hand had immediately buried itself between her thighs, had pulled it away and was now looking at her cunt. Confused, he looked at her then back to the bare, pink slit paler than the rest of her. “What the hell did you do?”

She started to cover herself, suddenly realizing she was naked as her nameday in the lawn of Evenfall Hall with only one sneaker on while he remained fully dressed. Jaime dropped on one knee ad slapped her hands away. “What happened to your lovely bush, wife?” He asked, his voice suddenly gentle. Her breathing shallowed as his breath washed over her cunt. He held her by her hips.

“It’s called the Prince’s Feast.” Brienne blushed harder and it reached her breasts. She tried covering it again. He shot her a warning look as he slapped her hands away. “Ellaria. . .Ellaria told me that it was a custom for Dornish concubines to, uh. . .have this done on their first night with the prince.”

“You’re going to be my wife, not concubine. But it certainly doesn’t hurt you thinking I’m a prince.” Jaime said, grinning so smugly she’d punch him if not for the current situation she was in. His eyes fell between her thighs that she swore were also blushing. “Fuck, Brienne. It’s so pink. _Gods damn it._ ” His eyes glazed for a second and his hand was shaking as he ran it through his hair. Then his hands were on her. _There._ She bit her lip as he leaned closer and carefully thumbed her open with surprising delicateness. "So, so pink. And your clit." Then he was mashing his face against her, his beard rough against her very soft, newly-revealed skin. Brienne cried out as his tongue swirled hard and quickly round and round on her clit before sucking it hard and releasing it with a pop. He pulled away. As she swayed, he looked around, his eyes wild before he found something behind her. He turned to Brienne, the smile on his face promising something _oh so very bad_ and she lost all feeling down her legs. He shot to his feet and grabbed her, lifting her to his shoulder fireman's style. 

“Jaime! Put me down! I’m too heavy! What are you—why are you—this is a fucking canoe! _My father’s canoe!_ " Brienne shrieked as Jaime put her there and went in after her. She would have protested again but he kissed her and she forgot what she was yammering about. She groaned his name and buried her fingers in his hair, tugging slightly. 

“You fucked me in the football field of your high school. How is this any different? And I want so much o fuck, my sexy, mule-headed wife.” Though his voice was soft and the words were between kisses, there was no mistaking the carnal authority in his voice. His hands were gentle as he urged Brienne toward the end of the canoe until she was leaning against it. Her knees, which she had folded to her chest as soon as she’d been put in the canoe, remained between them. He looked at her through his lashes and whispered, “Spread your legs, Brienne. Do it now.” He kissed her knees. _“Please.”_

Hesitating, Brienne parted her legs. Jaime shook his head. To her shock and embarrassment, he propped her legs on the opposite edges of the canoe. She was so _open._ She could feel _everything._ He could see _everything,_ she realized, feeling flames eating her alive as Jaime knelt between her spread thighs. He smiled at her, raking her from head to toe with his hot gaze.

"Play with your tits, Brienne."

She surprised them both by immediately cupping her breasts. Biting her lip, she continued to look at him.

"Don't be shy. Pinch your nipples."

She gave a rough twist on her nipples still wet and sensitive from his kisses. _"Oh."_ She grunted, head falling back, hips surging forward. As she gave herself to the pleasure of her own touch, a long, sure finger slid inside her cunt. She gasped, eyes flying open, freezing. Jaime shook his head at her. "Continue, wife. And don't stop looking at me."

This was probably the hardest Brienne had blushed. Scarlet spread through her face with the speed of wildfire. Still pinching and pulling at her swollen nipples, she started chanting his name as he fucked her with his finger, then two. He would look in her eyes, then at her cunt, bare and stretched around his pumping fingers. He took in silvery glow of her sapphire eyes, her red face, the strong column of her throat. The cold bit into her nipples, tightening them into taut points. His eyes caressed her waist before they fell on her cunt again, pink and spread and open to him.

 _He looked hungry._

He inhaled and smiled. She squirmed, looking away. He put a hand on her cheek and made her look at him. “You smell so good. Brienne, you look fucking _tasty._ A raspberry cream treat all just for _me._ ” Then he curled his fingers and she was yanked to a sharp burst of pleasure that sent her shaking and crying out loudly.

Her body was still heavy and limp from her orgasm when Jaime leaned toward her. He was naked now, she realized. He claimed her mouth, licking and sucking gently. Then he slid a finger between the naked folds of her cunt. They gasped at how easily he slid in. “You’re dripping,” he said, his voice thick with sensual delight. “I’m going to fuck you the entire night.”

Brienne, flung yet again to an otherworldly cornucopia of sensation, could only fall limp against the canoe as his finger worked her again. Another joined and together, they curled, hitting that spot that sent her cooing and begin to flood his palm. She blushed hearing the wet flicking sound of his fingers in her still-sensitive cunt. Through her half-closed eyes, she saw Jaime’s smile widen. _“Yes, Jaime.”_

“There are only two things I want to hear from you, Brienne. My name and that you love me. If you scream, even better.”

She narrowed her eyes at him despite how good his fingers was making her feel. “I won’t scream.”

“Oh you will,” he vowed. “Very loudly. The entire Sapphire Isle would hear you.”

So he lowered his head. 

 

 

When Jaime woke up several hours later, it was in a familiar bed and in the arms of the woman he had come to know very well. He grinned at Brienne. She lay on her stomach in a spread, exhausted sprawl, her face turned away from him. She had her arm thrown across his chest. Their shared blanket, tangled below his stomach, was puddled around her smooth, muscle-ripped thighs. The slender beam of the sun that had managed to slip past a slit between the drapes shone on the still-drying streaks of come around her thighs and the shiny, moist patch of the lube between the freckled, pale cheeks of her buttocks. Normally, he would kick the blankets away and look at his Brienne’s beautiful, strong, naked form with undisguised pleasure. But Seven Hells, he was exhausted. Wrung out. From the soft snore drifting from Brienne, she was probably more tired than he was. 

They had fucked the night away. He couldn't get enough of her eyes with the pupils blown, her face, her skin, hot and flushed as if fevered. _Her mouth_ , softer and more plump from kisses. He couldn't stop playing with her sexy tits, and gods, her cunt. in truth, he liked her bush, he missed it. But the new smoothness, the softer skin--it seemed a crime to not sink his fingers deep inside, that he was an idiot to _not_ want to swirl his tongue up and down and round and round. But it was with his cock ramming inside her that sent her screaming so loudly that he had to clamp his lips around her mouth to muffle them. And her screams! Sexy, filthy things. Of course she didn't stick to his request. She also added, "Fuck me hard," and "Make me come." Of course she wasn't the only one he talked. He made sure to tell her what he loved about her. Fucking her was a welcome distraction from the hurt and anger that lingered, and he wished to banish it with every declaration of his love. He whispered it with lips pressed against her throat, as whispered it between kisses as he wrapped her legs tighter around his waist. But he lost all coherence when he pulled her on top and asked her to play with her breasts again as they fucked. Holy Seven Hells, he had shot off his load violently in her upon seeing her pink cunt stretched around him. She had screamed his name when he flicked her clit and collapsed limp on top of his still-heaving body. He smiled as her heavy body pressed him hard on the floor. His lips tracked the round plane of her cheek before she turned and offered her lips. Then he was rolling them to the side, hooking her leg over his hip. Staring into each other's eyes, their bodies clashed, brushed, surged. She panted against his mouth when he triggered her release by twisting her nipple between thumb and forefinger.

His favorite part of the night was when he needed rest and had asked her to straddle his face. A hot flush swept through her, and she could only make sputtering protests as he continued begging her. She seemed to like him beg, he noticed, because she would do as he pleaded. So beg he did, emphasizing how it was torture if she won't let him taste her again. This time, she moved toward him, her face a vivid red even in the dark. 

He was greedily lapping up her honey, her cries sounding distant, when there was suddenly the ominous sound of cracking wood. Brienne, who had been gripping the edges of the canoe, froze. Jaime continued to suck on her swollen clitoris while he fucked her with his fingers. She had to call him three times and by then, there was another cracking sound. This time, he removed his head from her warm thighs. Brienne, horrified, leaped out of the canoe, looked for the source of the sound and found the long, dark fissure that marked it. Jaime had laughed despite his annoyance—he was still in the middle of his feast, after all! But they have been fucking so hard they had broken the canoe! 

“This is my father’s, Jaime. He’s not going to like it.” Brienne said as she hurried into her clothes.

“He’s been hollowing this out for years. It was inevitable. If it pleases you, I will learn how to hollow out a tree into a canoe and replace it.” Jaime said, stepping out naked so he could inspect the damage. Seeing her pull on her t-shirt, he frowned. As her head popped out of the neckline and she smoothed it down, he felt his cock twitch.

“It’s not the same. He’s not going to like this.” She grabbed her shorts next. 

“Who says he has to know?”

“What? Jaime, we can’t—“ Brienne’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“Alright. You don’t like to lie. But I will lie for us because your father would definitely throw me into the sea if he finds out exactly what we’ve been doing. I love you and love fucking you too much to risk that. So I’ll tell him I fell into it and broke it.” Jaime put his arms around her waist and kissed her sweetly on the mouth. “I’ll take the fall for us as long as we get to continue to fuck in the bedroom.”

Brienne, shaking her head, stuttered, “But—But—I thought you were tired---and—and—“

“I’m not tired. Are you? No? Then great. Your cunt revived me. .” He smiled as he lowered his hand to her cunt. Brienne who was still clutching her shorts to her chest, dropped them as he found her clit. It was fat, swollen and slick. Gods, she was so smooth. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to fuck. Your cunt certainly wants to.”

“Jaime Lannister, you outrageous, arrogant prick—“

He rolled his eyes and kissed her hard on the mouth. She moaned and sank against him. They fucked on the ground, the grass a soft carpet under her body. Then they got dressed and went inside the castle 

In the bedroom the clothes were off before the door completely closed. Jaime resumed his feast from between her legs and she loved, secretly, of course, how he had to crush her so he could enjoy the slice that was for him and him alone. After she recovered from her orgasm, she pushed him on his back and lowered her head between his thighs. His cock tasted of him, of her. 

She also made him an offer he would never refuse. She turned on her hands and knees and raised her hips. She ran a hand down her buttocks and slowly spread her cheeks and looked at him over her shoulder, blushing. Surprised and pleased at the unexpected treat, Jaime took the lube from the drawer. He had stopped by the pharmacy in the airport earlier. He rubbed a generous amount of lube down his cock then swirled more of it inside Brienne. Hells, she was even smooth back there! Brienne shouted into the pillow as she came. 

He was gazing admiringly at her straw-blond hair rendered white in the little sliver of sunlight in the room when someone knocked softly. Careful not to wake her up, he moved quietly, pulling on a robe. He opened the door a fraction of an inch and found Ellaria outside.

“Hello, Jaime.” Ellaria said. She was in a robe too. “We need to get Brienne ready.”

“She’s still sleeping.” 

She cocked an eyebrow. “You certainly kept her up late.”

Jaime, startled, blushed. “Don’t tell her.”

“Of course not. We couldn’t see you anyway, only hear you. Give her ten minutes then wake her up. We have a lot to do.”

Jaime nodded and closed the door. When he turned around, Brienne was sitting up, her eyes a brilliant blue though heavy with sleep, her mouth swollen. She clutched the blanket to her chest. Though mussed and clearly looking like she’d been fucked thoroughly, she still looked strong and formidable. Her legs were curled to the side.

“Good morning, wife.” He whispered, awed by the overwhelming love he felt for her. 

She returned his smile shyly. “Husband.”

“Husband.” He liked the word from her lips. “Yes.” He said, straightening his spine. “I’m yours, Brienne.”

He sat down before her and took her hand. The sapphire engagement ring glinted in the sun, momentarily stunning him. He brought her hand to his lips. “I love you.” He kept it at that. Above all things he loved about her, this was what he wanted her to remember. That he loved _her_. 

Her sapphire eyes were soft. “I love you, Jaime. So much.” Then she frowned. “Oh. We don’t have vows yet.”

“For your consideration,” Jaime told her, still holding her hand. “I would like for us to say the traditional vows.”

“But you said we weren’t traditional.”

“No, we’re not. But love is something we've always had long before we admitted it to each other. Tradition is the closest to describe it. Our parents had it and their parents before them and before them. Maybe not a lot in the long history of Westeros, but some have married genuinely loving each other. They spoke the same words. I think. . .I think it would be like having them with us on this day, Brienne.” He didn’t have to say who he meant. Brienne knew. She was the answer to all his questions, the missing piece in all his blank spaces.

“It’s just a suggestion, wife.” Jaime reminded her. “We can just say I love you and leave it at that. Short, to the point, and true. We’ve gone full throttle from the beginning.” He traced her cheek with a long finger.

“I like that too.”

Jaime whispered, “Really?”

She nodded. “Yes, Jaime. I want the words of old too.” 

The pleasure on his face went straight to her heart. “It’s a good thing we’re getting married in a short while, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept laughing at the idea of having the Brazilian as a "Dornish" in the world so I went with "Prince's Feast."


	9. I Am Yours And Your Are Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blip on the big day.

It was Ellaria and Renly who took charge of getting Brienne ready for the day. Brienne, dreading the piles of makeup the pair might force her to wear, was relieved that it was limited to black eyeliner and crimson lipstick. 

As Ellaria helped her dress, Brienne asked about Jaime. She had expected to wake up tired and sore after a night of vigorous fucking but instead, she was refreshed and relaxed. Jaime reminding her throughout the night (and what a reminder it was, she thought, blushing) what he loved about her had driven away any lingering uncertainties. And him telling her he loved her this morning—she had almost cried at his tender kisses on her hand, and his suggestion that their vows be the one spoken by their parents and their parents before them. 

“Jaime’s getting ready as we speak,” Ellaria told Brienne from behind as she smoothed the skirt. Brienne was staring out of the window of her bedroom, observing the tables and chairs being set up on one side of the garden and the red carpet laid out on the other end where she would be walking later, her hand on her dad’s arm, toward Jaime. Her heart clenched at the thought, but not in anxiety, she realized. 

“Brienne, if you could see yourself. I don’t believe this gown would stay on long once you’re in the suite.” Ellaria remarked, her hands gentle on her friend’s shoulders as she urged her to look in the mirror. 

Brienne’s smile was soft despite the violent blush that overtook her face and chest. She had thought the style of the dress risqué at first—she was more comfortable covered up. But being covered up just didn’t seem to suit an outdoor wedding, and it was the middle of spring. The weather was warm, pleasantly so. Her freckles stood out clear and looked more vivid against the white of the dress. Her hair had been swept back and to the side, and the only makeup she wore were black eyeliner to emphasize her eyes and lipstick that was close to the colour of her mouth. Except for her engagement ring, her only other accessory was a pair of pear-shaped, sapphire drop earrings that had been her mother’s. Brienne couldn’t stop the little tear that slid down the corner of her eyes when Selwyn presented them to her before she got dressed. It had been an emotional moment for father and daughter, one they were not used to. Selwyn had excused himself and left her in the hands of Ellaria and Renly.

Once dreading how she would look in her wedding dress, she was surprised to like herself in it. She looked natural. She looked herself.  
And that was what Jaime loved, she reminded herself, remembering the string of words he’d gasped last night, a lot of them silly, a lot of them surprising, touching, yet also a lot of them incoherent, especially when he was fucking her. Her cheeks heated remembering how he had made good on his promise to fuck her the entire night. She figured they had only slept for three hours at most, yet in no way did she feel tired or cranky. 

Her body hummed with a good kind of tension. All she could think about was being Jaime’s at last. 

“That is one hot guy down there,” Renly was standing by the window and looking at someone below. He was dressed in his shirt, his tie still loose and draped around his shoulders. The jacket that would complete his ensemble was folded carefully over a chair. “Jaime says you know each other. So. Straight up or with a twist, Bree?”

“Who?” She asked, looking at him with confusion. The wedding was small yet she couldn’t recall anyone there that would even remotely interest Renly.

Renly rolled his eyes and pointed. “Him.”

Brienne frowned and went to him. She saw Bronn tilting his chin up as Lollys straightened his tie. Cersei was talking to Stannis Baratheon and his odd, quiet wife Selyse. Oberyn Martell, whose services were tasked to documenting the wedding, was instructing his staff of two people on where to put the camera and where to attach the cables. He was dressed in a cream suit and a pale blue shirt. More guests were arriving. Brienne scanned through them, following Renly’s impatient instructions until she picked out a familiar face in the crowd. Her heart dropped upon recognizing him.

“What is Gendry Waters doing here?” 

 

“Nervous, brother?” Tyrion asked as he pierced the cufflinks through the holes of the cuffs on Jaime’s shirt. They were gold, lion’s heads, with tiny sapphires for their eyes. They were Tyrion’s gift. 

Jaime, watching his small, pudgy hands work, snorted. “Of course not. I’m marrying the woman I love. What’s to be nervous about?”

Tyrion smiled. “Shouldn’t have asked, it looks like. You’ve been sure about Brienne from the beginning, haven’t you?”

Oh, he had been intrigued by the blond, long-legged drunk singing on top of the tables of the bar. He had been curious about how everything in him had responded to her when she’d barely glanced at him. Later he would realize he had wanted her even then, wanted her so consumingly and needfully that every taste of her made, rather than bring satisfaction, made him hungrier for more. Nevertheless, he was well aware that he didn’t deserve Brienne with her good heart and innocence. He did not, to this day, but it did not mean he wouldn’t try every day to get closer to being worthy of her. 

Brienne had hurt him last night telling him he didn’t have to marry her. Jaime, though always thinking of himself as a lover, realized he would be always more than willing to fight as long as his blond, sapphire-eyed giantess realized he loved her without end. A better man would have read her poetry and romanced her with flowers and sweet words. But he was not a better man. His style was brash and rough and to the point and it appeared to have worked. 

Tyrion finished with the cufflinks and went to a sideboard to pour himself a drink. Jaime strolled to the window to watch the preparations underway for the wedding. Out came the red carpet, then the fancy, silver-white chairs for the ceremony. He saw Tywin talking with Addam and Ashara and there was Robert sitting on one of the chairs, his head bent low as he listened to something Joffrey was saying. 

A commotion outside had the Lannister brothers turning towards the door. Renly and Ellaria were clearly hysterical, arguing loudly about how it was bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the wedding. Jaime frowned and glanced at Tyrion. Then somebody pounded a heavy fist on the door.

“Jaime Lannister, did you invite Gendry Waters to the wedding?” Brienne demanded.

Jaime headed for the door but Ellaria shrieked, “Jaime, don’t you fucking dare open the door!”

“Ellaria, you’re being ridiculous,” Brienne growled. 

“No, Brienne, you’re being ridiculous.” Renly told her.

Though not a superstitious man, Jaime remained where he was though he wanted very much to see Brienne. “So what if I invited him? He’s your friend. I ran into him at the airport and mentioned the wedding. It seemed impolite to not invite him considering he got beat up defending you before.”

“You can’t just—you can’t—Jaime.” He could imagine her glaring at him through the door. “Jaime, I mean—oh gods.”

“What’s wrong?”

“This is not the time nor place to tell you why. But you have to find a way to uninvite him.”

“Uninvite him?” Jaime scratched his head, remembered his hair was styled and so dropped his hand. “You’re going to have to give me a good reason to uninvited a guy who’se been, you know, decent to you. To both of us.”

“Brienne, you’re red all over! Calm down!” Renly said.

Imagining Brienne flushed and annoyed gave Jaime a most unexpected boner. He groaned and sighed loudly. “I’m opening the door.”

“No!” Ellaria, Renly and Tyrion shouted.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Jaime snapped, striding forward anyway. Before he could take another step, a heavy weight suddenly slammed on his leg, sending him crashing to the floor. He slammed his elbows down lest he end up on his face. Recovering from his shock, he turned and discovered Tyrion had thrown himself at him. 

“ _Tyrion!_ What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Look, I’m a sensible man, Jaime, but even I think some superstition has to be respected.” Tyrion snapped, still clutching at his leg.

Jaime tried shaking him off but his brother, though a dwarf, was quite heavy. “Let go!”

“Brienne, don’t you go in there!” Ellaria exclaimed just as the door flew open.

Jaime looked up just in time to see Renly throw his jacket over Brienne, effectively covering the upper half of her body. She rolled her eyes and strolled forward, clutching the jacket, somehow avoiding tripping over the long, ivory silk skirt of her dress. Tyrion, seeing it was a lost cause, rolled away from Jaime with a sigh. Jaime glared at him and launched to his feet as Brienne reached him. He smoothed his shirt and pants.  
Her eyes were big and fierce, her cheeks pink slowly crossing to red. Usually, he would tease her and kiss her and hoped it went further. But the expression on her face was one of distress. He took her hand, was grateful when she let him hold her. Quietly, yet in a voice of command, he requested that they be left alone.

Tyrion shot them a knowing look before he let himself out. “Try not to fuck before the wedding, kids.”

Brienne’s cheeks were bright red as the door shut behind him. Jaime put a hand on her cheek. His eyes held her gaze. “What’s got you in a snit over Gendry Waters, Brienne? What don’t I know?”

“He shouldn’t be here.” Was all she would say, glaring at him with her astonishingly blue eyes  
.  
“You’re not making sense. I need a good reason to go down there and have the man removed from Evenfall. Else this is all a case of nerves.”

“I never get a case of nerves. He shouldn’t be here because—because—“ Brienne’s face flared and Jaime could feel her skin burning in his palm. Finally, she threw her hands up. “Fine! He stays! There will never be a good time to tell you why, Jaime, but gods, if you do find out I hope you’re a lot calmer than I am now.”

“Well.” He grinned at her lasciviously. “There’s one way to remedy that.”

“We are not fucking before the wedding!” Brienne protested vehemently. 

“Fine.” Jaime said, letting out a long, pained sigh. Of course they weren’t but if she’d offered, he wouldn’t refuse. The next time they fucked, it would be as husband as wife. The thought made him harder. “But can I at least have a kiss?”

“No!” Ellaria’s voice from behind the door startled them both that they jumped apart. “You are not going to ruin Brienne’s lipstick until it’s time!”

 

Twenty minutes later, Brienne stood at the other end of the aisle with her hand tucked in Selwyn’s arm.

Father and daughter were striking with their pale, blond hair, bright blue eyes and tall, impressive frames. There was no question that Selwyn Tarth had not gone soft despite his retirement from the military more than a decade ago. He was clearly a man who had seen it all, the kind of man to follow in battle but today, he was a father both proud of his daughter yet also sad for he would be giving her away. Jaime, standing at the other end of the aisle, found himself moved as Selwyn momentarily cradled Brienne's cheek before soft, violin music started to play.

The wind ruffled Brienne’s short hair, upsetting its sideswept style loaded with products that should stand against all of nature’s forces. But it did not matter. Her eyes were bright and oh so very blue despite the distance between her and Jaime. She bloomed not just with the joy a woman would feel on her wedding day, but it was one that came from being with the man she loved at long last.As she stood with her father waiting for the flower girls and the ring bearer to finishing their turn walking down the aisle, she stared at Jaime. Dressed in a crimson Lannister cloak designed with roaring, golden lions of his old family sigil, she imagined herself transported back in time. How many Jaime Lannisters, she wondered, had looked the way he did, in that cloak, their eyes softened to that of delicate jade rather than its usual brilliant emeralds, waiting for their bride? And who among the brides had felt taller and more sure with every passing second simply because of the way she was looked at? She bet none of them were as sure as she was. And taller, of course. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was the tallest, after all. 

Jaime expected sweaty, clammy palms, sweat under the collar of his shirt, the fast thrumming of his heart as Brienne and Selwyn began to walk down the crimson aisle. Didn't all grooms feel this way? Not him, it turned out. What he felt was the hard punch of _thrill_ with the certainty that Brienne was going to be his in a few minutes. He both wanted to prolong the moment of her walking toward him, and to end it as swiftly as possible. She will probably never believe him but to him she _was_ beautiful. Not because of her dress, or her blush. It was her spirit, her strength, her good heart. They summed into the rare beauty of her person. His heart swelled knowing that the woman marrying him was this wonderful, extraordinary human being. 

He couldn't help the frank, male appreciation at her gown. It was delicate ivory that miraculously didn't wash out her pale, heavily-freckled skin. If anything her sexy freckles stood out more clearly due to the spring season and he was already making a chart in his head of where he will be kissing her once in the honeymoon suite. The thin, barely-there straps emphasized the strength of her broad shoulders, the lean, toned length of her arms. The neckline was a deep scoop that promised more freckles rather than cleavage. The skirt hugged her wide hips before flaring gently down her ankles, brushing gently on the carpet. Brienne carried no flowers, just herself. Jaime had to dig his heel on the ground to stop from running toward her and taking her in his arms. 

Tyrion, his best man, whispered, “Brienne is beautiful.”

“Yes, she is.” Jaime agreed proudly.

Brienne's blush intensified as they approached closer. Jaime had that familiar, heated, dark look she had come to know from countless, glorious nights and days of having him leaning over her as they fucked, or when he angled his head up when she sat on his thighs with her legs open. She had to look away for a second, fighting her instinct of ducking her head away. So she met his stare with what little boldness she had. _He wants me,_ she thought, turning it over and over in her head as if it were a rare piece of art that she couldn't believe was real. _He loves me, was her next thought, awed and humbled._

When Brienne and Selwyn reached Jaime, she smiled. He returned it. Then she turned to kiss Selwyn on the cheek. "I love you, Dad."

Selwyn took Jaime’s hand and put it over Brienne’s. “She’s all yours, Jaime.” He said softly.

“I will love her and make her happy.” Jaime vowed, meaning every word. 

“You will.” Selwyn said and Jaime could have hugged him if not for how good it felt to touch Brienne. He turned to Brienne. “I love you, daughter.”

 _“Dad.”_ Brienne was clearly touched by words that Selwyn had told her for the first time today. He kissed her on the forehead and went to his seat.

Jaime put an arm around Brienne’s waist and pulled her toward him. He kissed her on the lips. She kissed him back, her lips easily yielding when he coaxed it to open so their tongues could touch for just a bit.

“Ahem.” The septon said. “It’s not yet time to kiss the bride.”

Jaime grinned while Brienne giggled. Laughter rang from the seats as the bride and groom faced the septon. She bit her lip as he brought her hand to his lips this time.

Try as they might to listen, Jaime and Brienne would look at each other and take turns kissing the other’s hand. Brienne, uncharacteristically breaking the rules, leaned to kiss Jaime on the cheek and he groaned happily. The crowd laughed again as the septon sternly reminded them to wait. Then it was time to cloak the bride and take her under his protection.

Jaime unclasped the rich, crimson cloak from his throat to sweep it around Brienne’s shoulders. She let out a soft gasp, only for his ears. The cloak was still warm from his body and smelled of him. Now she could see that he wore a deep, navy blue suit under it and a black bow tie. She glanced down as he closed the cloak around her. It was then that she discovered the sapphire-eyed lion at her throat. It was a subtle tribute to her house, and to her, she knew. Touched, she delighted Jaime once again by framing his face in her palms and kissing him gently. He seized her tightly around the waist, hissing her name.

“It isn’t time for the kiss yet, Brienne.” The septon said. 

Jaime allowed himself to kiss Brienne, sucking her lower lip one more time before he turned to the septon with a glare. “Then get on with it because I want my wife to kiss me now.” 

The septon sighed and announced it was time to exchange rings and vows. Tyrion handed the rings to Jaime. 

Jaime took the slender platinum band and made sure to show Brienne the inscription under it. There was no mistaking the surprise and pleasure on her face upon realizing what they were. “The day I first saw you,” he told her. He kissed her hand and began to slide the ring down her finger. Then he pulled her engagement ring from her other finger and slid it down on top of the wedding band. He kissed her hand again then straightened up.

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am yours and you are mine, from this day until the end of my days.” He said, looking into Brienne’s eyes when he was done putting the ring on. His voice rang clear and firm. “I will love you forever, Brienne.” 

He tugged her close to his chest and kissed her fully, soundly, once again delighting the crowd. The septon rolled his eyes. Brienne thanked Tyrion as he handed her the next ring. She licked her lips and took Jaime's hand. Her voice was shaky but she was clearly determined.

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am yours and you are mine, from this day until the end of my days.” She took a deep breath and said, “You’ve taken my heart, Jaime. I love you. I love you.” 

There was no use waiting for the septon. Jaime couldn’t wait to kiss his wife. Brienne had been waiting forever. So they grabbed each other and kissed, ignoring the septon admonishing them to wait until he sighed and said they could finally kiss. By then, Jaime held Brienne to his chest that conveyed to the laughing and applauding crowd that he was never letting go. 

And from the way she was kissing him back and whispering how much she loved him, neither was she.


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

Though Brienne’s eyes have been open for a few seconds already, she didn’t catch on immediately on where she was. What she was sure about was the golden head with the tousled waves resting between her breasts was Jaime. But how and why they were on the floor rather than the bed she couldn’t really answer right now. She would investigate but it would mean moving. She may be heavier than Jaime but he certainly wasn’t light. There was no way to move without waking him. Not to mention she liked his weight pressing her down, though she would regret this in a few hours.

So she lay there, looking at the unfamiliar ceiling with the small though intricate crystal chandelier, feeling the soft cushion of the fabric under her. Every breath raised Jaime’s head, who continued to sleep. This was surprising, yet also not really. He was the light sleeper between them but the, um, _exertions_ from last night had probably worn him out. Unlikely but he was sleeping so soundly, she thought, kissing his forehead softly. 

She bit her lip, blushing more as she remembered their wedding, the applause, the smiles thrown their way. There were more kisses between them before they made it to the reception, even if it was only mere steps away. Brienne felt giddy and if not for Jaime's arm around her waist or his kisses, if not for the people all around and the ground beneath her feet, she would think it was all a dream. The rich, raspberry-and-chocolate cake told her this was real. Her uncles, father, everyone else hugging her. The secret look that conveyed desire and happiness she exchanged with Jaime. The laughter from her and the other women as they posed for photographs. Giggling helplessly as she had _another_ glass of champagne and blushing furiously when Renly took her to the dance floor. She thought of Jon as she spun in her best friend's arms and promised herself to call him tomorrow. 

Despite all the fun she was having, all she could think about was getting Jaime alone. Their wedding dance was a hellish tease because she could feel him hard and straining in his pants. Her nipples were hard little points under the silk of her gown and her cunt was swollen, wet and _aching_. Addam, who had volunteered to deejay and soon had everyone dancing and roaring due to his surprising, lively playlist, gave them the opportunity to sneak away at last. Jaime pulled her to the limo and instructed the chauffeur to take them to the hotel.

Fucking and grunting against the door, any door, of a honeymoon suite was hardly anyone's vision of the first time between a husband and wife but their passion rivaled all who had come before them, and many more after. Brienne came with a loud, throaty groan, clutching at Jaime's hair while he growled against her neck. They looked at each other in the aftermath, flushed, sweaty and panting. Her leg, wrapped around his ass, slipped down. Brienne's hair stuck out in all directions due to Jaime grabbing it. Her mouth was swollen with the lipstick smudged around it. Jaime's hair too was a mess, but far prettier than his wife's. Some of her lipstick had gotten on him. Together, they broke out into a smile that made the small leap to laughter, having them gasping and shaking.

She sighed happily as he drank from her lips gently this time.

"Brienne." He murmured between kisses. He played with the strap of her dress. "My lady. I'd like to see my wife please." His tone was formal, the gleam in his eyes playful yet also beseeching.

Brienne ran her teeth along the slim line of his lower lip. "She's right here."

He smiled against her lips. "You misunderstand. I want to _see_ my wife." Then he lowered the strap down her arm.

She was red as a ripe, sweet strawberry as understanding dawned on her. He kissed her one more time before he took the cloak from her and tossed it to the floor. Then he stepped back.

The dress' zipper was on the side so there was no awkward fumbling or affecting coyness and asking Jaime to take care of it. Still, Brienne reddened some more and her shaking hands made what was supposed to be a quick, smooth action one of struggle. But Jaime didn't rush her. He had discarded his jacket, loosened his bow tie, unbuttoned three buttons down his shirt. He just watched her. Smiled at her. Then the zipper yielded.

Though she had undressed before him many times, she was still awkward doing it. It was better when Jaime undressed her but he had asked and it was their wedding night. Brienne took a a loud, deep breath, which Jaime found so endearing and _fucking adorable._ Then she was sliding the straps down her arms, the scooped neckline was slowly inching down.

Jaime's mouth fell open. 

He was the luckiest son of a bitch alive. His knees actually knocked together. 

He had seen Brienne naked before--hells, she was naked and bucking against him less than an hour of setting foot in his old apartment. Maybe because he was _her_ husband now, maybe because she was his _wife_ now why she looked somewhat different yet all the more breathtaking. Mouthwatering. Impressive. _Beautiful_. He must have gasped a prayer of thanks to the Seven, first, for this absolutely _singular_ woman, and the second, that he hadn't known she was naked under her dress. Sunk in the haze of lust he hadn't given a second thought--nope, he was not thinking at all--when his cock slid inside her right away earlier. Fucking, that was all he had latched on. Fucking Brienne. His wife. Fucking his wife Brienne. _Gods, if I'd known she was naked under that the ceremony would have started late._

He didn't know where to look first. Her face? A shape between round and oval, freckled, with eyebrows so pale they almost blended against her skin, those astonishing sapphire eyes, the nose twice-broken by a volleyball, that maddeningly sexy, full-lipped, wide, oh so wide mouth? Her surprisingly elegant collarbones? Broad shoulders? Those tiny tits on the broad plane of her chest, topped with candy-pink nipples hardening under his gaze? Perhaps the rippled expanse of her stomach. Her cunt. Jaime groaned and felt his knees give away. He licked his lips staring at the pink seam, the freckles around it. 

"Brienne." His voice was strained. He held out a hand. "Come here." 

She made the first step. The second. Then the next. Jaime marveled at her muscular, trunk-like thighs, her long, so very long, legs, her big feet. When she was close enough, he looked up at her. 

"My love, you'll be covered in kisses tonight." He told her, smiling before he tugged her down next to him. " _Brienne._ My wife. _My wife._ " His lips landed on a hot, reddening cheek.

Now Brienne brushed the soft waves of Jaime’s hair, warm and soft at the knowledge of how this man loved-- _her_ \--that he was her husband at last. _Hers._ Her eyes drifted closed, lulling herself to sleep playing with his hair.

When she woke up later, it was because something soft was trailing up and down her legs, then her thighs. Her eyes were bleary and heavy-lidded blue pools as she watched Jaime trail a crimson rose up and down her body. She didn’t like flowers of any kind but the one he held was the variety bred by his mother—the Roar of Lannister. A rich, blood-crimson colour splashed with yellow-gold on the outer petals.

Jaime’s face was intent as he pressed the fully bloomed rose to her cunt. He was sprawled between her legs—legs that he had pushed wide apart in her sleep, she realized—his eyes burning green as he touched every freckle with it.. Brienne must have made a sound because he turned to look at her. His smile was soft yet also wicked as he continued to swirl the rose in the blossoming heat between her legs. It tickled, similar to the light flick of his tongue. She moaned as he spread her cunt lips and rubbed the delicate petals against her clit, then lower until it was kissing and spinning the wet looms of her desire. She squirmed, squeezing her eyes shut, keening. "There you are. _Wife._ " Jaime murmured.

She opened her eyes. Her nails dug on the fabric stretched under her as he continued his play with the rose. They stared at each other heatedly.

“Good morning.” Jaime told her, sliding the rose back to her clit then trailing it up her and across her stomach. She opened her eyes, seeing him sit up so he could circle the flower around her nipples, smiling as they tightened and began to point eagerly toward him. He took his time tracing the slight curve of her breasts. She shivered, sighing when his tongue mimicked the rose's trail before latching on to a nipple. He grinned at her pleased sigh and continued to outline her body with the rose.

"Husband.” Brienne said, feeling a new thrill saying it. " _Oh._ My Jaime." 

Jaime traced the rose over her throat, around her jaw before pressing it to her lips. She blushed as she smelled herself on the flower. Then Jaime flung it away and kissed her on the mouth. Though her hips were stiff and her legs felt cramped and heavy, she welcomed him. Gasps flitted from their lips when her cunt, still wet and fuck-softened, easily let his cock inside. Their kiss was rough, almost rapacious if not for his careful thrusts and the gentle flutter of her fingers down and across his back. Her rapid breathing was music to his ears.

Their fucking was not as frantic, due to the lingering tiredness they still felt from a very active night, but they still wanted each other so badly. Jaime came sooner than he wanted--Brienne had crossed her ankles behind his back and gripped his firm ass, urging him to fuck her harder because his cock felt _so good._ He slumped against her groaning her name. Shortly afterward, he was leering at her playfully as he slid down her body. Then he pushed her legs far apart and buried his tongue in her cunt. He lapped her up, growling at the scent of vanilla, roses and _Brienne_ that filled his head. 

Minutes later, Jaime lay with his hands stacked under his head, a smug grin oh his face. Brienne lay panting and flushed beside him. Wearily, she curled against his side, resting her sweaty forehead on his chest. His arms closed around her. 

“I know for sure now. Fucking you wakes me up.” Jaime declared.

She laughed breathlessly. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He turned to look at her. “It’s fucking ridiculous how you calling me that is a fucking turn-on.” He slapped her on the ass playfully before pinching it. She arched, a soft, strangled cry escaping her lips when he slyly slid a finger in the cleft of her buttocks. She slumped heavily on his chest, groaning from the hard pleasure it brought her. Their eyes met.

“Stop. I haven’t recovered yet.” She tried to wriggle him off. 

“That’s good to hear.”

“Asshole.”

He grinned. "Interesting choice of words." As she buried her burning face in his shoulder, he pulled his finger out and cradled her to his chest. Brienne sighed and held him, throwing her leg over his thigh. The curling hairs on his leg tickled her.

“How does it feel to be wedded and bedded, Mrs. Lannister?” He gently tugged at her hair so she was looking at him. She looked sleepy and soft. In the light of the sun from the window, she was almost lovely. The smile he gave her was tender.

“Exhausting.” Brienne grumbled.

He laughed. “Again, thank you.”

“How are you so bloody cheerful after a night of fucking and sleeping on the floor?” She demanded. “I’m stiff and tired. And we have an evening flight to Dorne.”

“A problem that can easily be remedied.” Jaime said and with surprising strength, picked her up. She noticed for the first time that her bridal cloak was on the floor and they had slept on it. And fucked, she realized, blushing and burying her face in his shoulder. As Jaime walked toward the bedroom, she spied her gown in a silken, crumpled puddle on the floor, her flats, Jaime’s jacket and the rest of his clothes. 

Together, they fell on the bed, facing each other. He pulled the blanket over them, only lying down when it was tucked securely around her shoulders. 

“Why, Mr. Lannister, thank you.” She said, batting her eyelashes at him. “I really am more suited for bed than the floor.” She let out a contented sigh as she stretched her legs.

“That you are.” He agreed, pushing her hair away from her face. His eyes were gentle. “Gods, Brienne, I can’t believe you’re mine at last.”

“Me neither.” Brienne admitted. She turned to press her lips on his palm as it cradled her heek.“It seemed only yesterday that we kept missing each other in the elevator.”

“Or that we're still fucking on your doormat before going on our first date.” Jaime enjoyed the blush that bloomed in her cheeks. He kissed them, then the line of her jaw, her throat then drifted to claim her mouth softly. “I’m glad you married me, Brienne.”

“I want no one else.” She declared firmly. Her blue eyes shone as she looked at him. She was pink from er declaration. “And I love you, Jaime. I really do.”

“Don’t stop.” He whispered, kissing her on the forehead. “I don’t want to know how that’s like." 

She shook her head. “You never will, Jaime. I promise you.”

“Promise me you won’t question me again? How I feel about you?” Jaime asked her. “Promise me you’ll believe me when I say how wonderful you are?”

She looked in his eyes. " Jaime, I swear it.” 

“We should have made that as our vow.” He sounded wistful.

“I won’t change one thing about our wedding, Jaime.” Brienne kissed him this time. “And not a single thing from the moment we met.” 

He cocked an eyebrow. “Including the almost-argument we had yesterday?”

“Well, that was your fault. But yes. Even if we go through that again. I won’t change it.” 

“And why is that?”

Brienne looked at him like the idiot he was yet it was alo with tenderness. Jaime looked into her wonderful, beautiful, breathtaking eyes.

“Because I still get to have you in the end. That’s all that matters, Jaime.” Her voice dropping in a whisper, she added, “I am yours and you are mine.”

“For always, Brienne.” He kissed her soundly and pulled her closer, until their ribs were digging into each other's skin. Brienne sank into his touch. “Always.” He held her fiercely. “I love you. I love you.” 

“Yes, Jaime.” She murmured. She held him just as tightly. “Yes.” 

It was all left to say when she finally got all she never thought she had the right to want. And have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited some parts and extended. I like this version better. I hope you do too! Thank you for reading and following the series.


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